Draco's Plea
by Fantine Black
Summary: AU After receiving a desperate letter from Draco, Narcissa is forced to face her past. After a long wait, chapter 16, called "Chandeliers and sonatas" is up.
1. Draco writes

(Disclaimer: Sadly enough, I don't own any of these characters. They're property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. Please excuse eventual spelling mistakes. English is not my first language.)  
  
Dear Mother,  
  
Please help me today. I wouldn't have asked you if it wasn't necessary. Mother, Mother, please help me, my mummy.  
  
I will have to face him. I can't bear it. It's not only the beatings. I'm used to them, really. I will be brave. I will only scream if he wants me to. But it's the hurt in his eyes, every time he beats me. He is hurt, and he doesn't want to do what he is doing. And I'm making him beat me, Mother, I am so sorry. It's all that stupid Granger's fault. If she wouldn't be such a know-it-all, I would be the top student. But I really can't study all the time like she does, since I have to practice for Quidditch. I want to do you honour. But then Potter comes along on his Firebolt, famous Harry Potter, favourite of all the teachers, apart from Professor Snape. They've even let him compete in the Triwizard Tournament Mother, even though he was below age. Please believe me, and speak for me tonight. Speak for me, and tell Father I love him.  
  
One time we both cried. I was lying on the ground and I couldn't stop the tears streaming down my face. And then he kneeled down beside me, stroked my cheek and picked me up, ever so gently. He held me in his arms and rocked me. I could smell that he had been drinking, but it didn't matter. He rocked me and stroked me and he even kissed me, Mother, he kissed me on the forehead. Oh, how I held him. I understood his pain so well. And I vowed I would never ever be such a disgrace again.  
  
But how many more times can I promise him, Mother? I've always failed, how could I ever live up to his -our!- standards? I want to, I urge myself, I repeat his lessons over and over again, I practise my duelling skills, I make the house-elves do his bidding, I study literature, classical music, chess, flying, manners and I am still not half the Malfoy I should be. How could I be? Will I ever be worthy to be called his son?  
  
O Mother, I now I shouldn't be, but I'm so frightened. The house-elves already whimper if Father only *strokes* them with his stick. And if one of them rebels in the slightest way now, I am the one who pays. Yes, as my personal house-elf I know Dobby was my responsibility. And I've felt it that summer. But you've seen that, and of course you have agreed; I had to learn that responsibility is a heavy burden. Please believe me if I tell you I didn't mean for this to happen! We have been going over all the curses, the way how to address and how not to address our Lord of Darkness, what to do at the incantation. We've been up every night, anxiously awaiting his call. This would be the one and final test. As we finally Apparated, and I first had the honour of paying homage to the Dark Lord, I had the one hope I could make Father proud. Being the lowest of all the wizards there, I tried to be even more humble than Father was, without disgracing the family honour. O, how well I thought it was going! I killed the Muggle at once, and the Cruciatus Curse was going fine; I was able to squeeze very amusing information out of the two Muggle policemen how had been captured for the Ritual. How I glowed with pride when it was time to swear fidelity and have Mark of Honour burned into my wrist! I could finally prove myself worthy. But when I swore to the Dark Lord that I would be his, and his forever, He called me a liar.  
  
"Lucius," he said, "you've brought a deceiver into our midst. His loyalty rests with somebody else." I will never forget the look of utter disappointment on his face. I had broken his heart. However, he still tried to save me.  
  
"My Lord, I can assure you out of the depth of my very soul that he is nothing but loyal to Your Greatness."  
  
"Nobody deceives Lord Voldemort!" the Dark Lord called out, radiant with magic. "Take this slimy little traitor away!"  
  
This was last night. Father has been drinking in his study ever since. He told me he'd deal with me at exactly nine o'clock this night, before he locked me into my bedroom. I'll give this letter to the house-elf that has brought me my lunch and is going to take my plate away. I beg you, Mother, tell him that everything I've ever wanted to do was to make him proud!  
  
Your son  
  
Draco 


	2. Narcissa

This is the first part of Narcissa's reply. It'll be a few chapters long because she has a lot to explain.  
  
Narcissa's reply (part 1)  
  
My dearest, dearest boy!  
  
Everything is gone. There's only emptiness.  
  
And pain.  
  
My body is raw, every nerve aches, I've lost my voice and I am trembling day and night. I can't write in a straight line. The parchment keeps getting stained.  
  
And my soul has gone numb.  
  
There is nothing left, my boy.  
  
My boy. You have always been my boy, didn't you realise that? Didn't you know? Of course you didn't know, he wouldn't let you. My boy! You had my hair, and my smile. But his eyes, his grey eyes that could be so horribly cold, but so lovingly warm as well. I can't bear to even think of you, and yet I always do. Every single heartbeat. This is my comfort. This is my punishment.  
  
I can't ask myself: why didn't you see? Why didn't you act? I know the answers to those questions, I've known them since you were born. It was a very well calculated decision. I simply couldn't risk standing up to him.  
  
But that doesn't mean I agreed, my boy. When you were little, I used to cry so much when I heard what was going on in his study. But it was all in the game. That's why I fled, into shopping, small talk, travelling, beauty treatments, into books. Only not to have to see your eyes, hear your screams. And, after some time, it started to work. You stopped screaming. There was a silent agreement between the three of us: I would ignore, you would endure, and he would give us both a luxury life and the certainty that he wouldn't mess you up too badly.  
  
Or so I thought.  
  
Why didn't I help? The question lay in your eyes every time you looked at me. Your beautiful eyes tormented me. Should I have told you? No! Should I have told you that helping you would have meant I'd have to go back to that, that *existence*? Back to the filth and the hunger of my first years? Should I have told you that your direct ancestors were worse off than most Muggles? I refused to let that happen. It would have destroyed everything. It was in the past and it had to stay there!  
  
Not anymore.  
  
It has taken a long time before I dared to lay eyes on your letter again. But since then, not a day has passed in which I haven't tried to find answers.  
  
You speak of your father, Draco. You beg me to declare him your love. It wouldn't have mattered, my boy. Your father loved you- as much as he could love anyone. It might not have been enough, but it was all he had to give.  
  
What about me? I search your words, day and night, but I can no longer deny it: as much as you think of your father, you never mention love for me. And you're right! I don't deserve your love. My actions must have seemed completely heartless to you. Yet, if I had told you everything, it would have destroyed me.  
  
But that does not matter anymore. I am destroyed anyway. 


	3. Childhood

The one or two times you asked about my family, I told you they were ancient, pure blood, and dead. That was all you needed to know. And it wasn't untrue. But how could I have told you that I grew up in the darkest slums of Knockturn Alley, surrounded by the very worst of our kind?  
  
I don't want to think much of my early years. I remember my mother, lying on her bed, wrapped in cloaks, coughing. It is astounding how right the Muggles, living some 500 years before my time were about diseases. You *can* get ill by inhaling too much bad fumes. Especially when those fumes are coming from the cauldrons of failed wizards and squibs, trying to brew potions of their own invention as well as using spells they do not master. All these pitiful creatures had failed to make something of their lives, and were destined to rot here. Their experiments with the Dark Arts mostly led to their deaths, as well as the deaths of others. But the "better ones" as they were called, paid good money for a successful new curse or device. And thus, they kept intoxicating the air, hoping against hope they would get out.  
  
It was a tough environment, and you needed a constitution like a rock to survive there. In fact, I believe I've only stayed healthy because I wasn't "spoiled" by luxury. My mother wasted away in front of my eyes, and my father couldn't take it either: he got a sallow skin, and couldn't walk upright in his last years.  
  
I must have been around four, when I saw one of the "better ones" for the first time. This is what the great Merlin himself must have looked like, I remember myself thinking. His dark hair was shining, he walked upright, he wore robes of the purest silk and velvet and his cloak was made of a thick, purple fur. And he was carrying a walking cane with shining silver head. I was so intrigued I wanted to touch the cloak. I tiptoed to the man and stroked his cape. He immediately noticed, lifted his cane and before I could do anything- "Expelliarmus!" I heard my father's voice behind me. The man was knocked of his feet and the cane soared through the air. My father caught it, eyes blazing. I hadn't seen my father this seething in my life. "Malfoy!" he spat. "If you ever come near my daughter again, I will blow you to pieces!" "If you ever attack me again," answered the man, who had been brought to his feet by various bystanders, "I will have you rot to pieces! In Azkaban!" His eyes were sending a shiver down my spine. "You do know what a cowardly attack on the minister for the Defense Against the Dark Forces can cost you, *sir* Redgrave?" My father said nothing. The man sent one of the onlookers to retrieve his cane. My father just stood there, jaw clenched. Then he called me, his voice sounding almost subhuman. "Narcissa, let's go." "Yes, go home, *my lady*," the man sneered at me. "I do hope the fleas make good pets."  
  
That day my father told me the story of my family the first time. The Redgraves were part of the old aristocracy. My father told me my family had, until the very end, considered the Malfoys to be nothing but double- faced "nouveau riche". It is true the Malfoy family can be traced back until the fifth century, but they didn't start to gain power until the late fifteenth century, when the power of the old aristocracy began to decrease. Since that time, every new generation of the Malfoy family had tried to marry into mine. They were always refused. As every generation of the Malfoys got a bit more powerful, they got a bit more dangerous to refuse, and their anger and determination grew. In the end, they had managed to completely ruin our family fortune. They gave my grandparents one last chance to escape a life in complete poverty. My father was to marry your great aunt, Drusilla Malfoy, the sister of your grandfather Claudius, who I had seen on that day. However, my father didn't even consider it. He was in love with my mother Diana, (a Ravenclaw just like him and the rest of the family) and had a good job at the Ministry for Magic. He reckoned that he could get by without the backup of a family fortune.  
  
He was wrong. Your grandfather had more influence then my father could have imagined. And this influence he used. Almost immediately, my father was accused of large thefts, he got fired, our Manor got confiscated due to the large family debt and my father never found a job at another department. And thus I was born in poverty. As I grew older, my father used to tell me that he and my mother had kept their integrity. "We may have lost everything, but not ourselves," he would say, with a hint of pride in his voice that I rarely heard from him. "We haven't given in to blackmail and threat." Well, that may have sounded very noble indeed, but noble sayings don't make you feel less hungry, less filthy, or less weary. It simply doesn't buy anything. And that is something my parents never understood. My father, the heir of the once so glorious Redgrave family, was living in the poorest conditions, and couldn't even afford to bring enough food on the table. Living the way he was taught in the better world, from which he knew all the "codes of honour" prevented him from coming back to that very world. My parents didn't want to "descend" to the level of the scum around them, the people who were shrewd, calculating, and had "no scruples at all" as they would lecture me. But these "vices" were exactly what you needed to rise above this world. I vowed that I would get out of these stinking slums and reclaim the privileges that were my birthright. And I knew I had to be as shrewd and calculating as possible to achieve that.  
  
And so I learned. My parents tried to shield from my environment, but if they had succeeded, I wouldn't have survived. Knockturn Alley wasn't the place for the manners they taught me, the books they told me about, the clothes they wanted me to wear. And the children in the streets knew that. In the beginning, I was hexed at least twice a day by some slimy little kid who had stolen his father's (usually very battered) wand. I didn't own a wand, so the best I could do was duck. But, browsing the little book shops in Knockturn Alley, I soon found out there are much better ways to defend oneself, even without a wand.  
  
I understand completely why most average wizards do not bother using anything else but practical magic, because learning the ancient rituals is tedious work. Most of it has become quite useless now every wizard is supposed to be in the possession of a wand. But ancient magic is also the magic of the time wizards were not controlled by meddlesome Ministry officials. When performed correctly, one ritual can cause far more damage than the strongest hex. It takes time. It takes determination. But the results are worth it.  
  
At ten, after two years of trying, I had become on of the most feared and respected children of Knockturn Alley. If anyone dared to point a wand at me, I made sure their worse nightmares would come true. Children have simple fears, so a simple curse would mostly make them miserable for a few days. Nobody could ever prove I had done anything to them, but every child knew it was better not to mess with the "princess", as they called me.  
  
Don't get me wrong: although this power made it easier for me outside, the problems my family was facing didn't decrease. My father was still unemployed, and my mother, who was the one who practically kept us alive, was getting more ill every day. She was a beautiful woman, and a very gifted artist. She could have been a great painter. Instead, she was a tailor. She designed and made robes for Madam Malkin's. Madam Malkin supplied the fabric, as she couldn't afford it herself, and that's why she had to sell her beautiful creations to Madam Malkin at a ridiculously low price. Had she been alone, she might have saved up for her own shop, but she had a husband and a child to take care of.  
  
All those memories! I thought I'd forgotten her, but she's there again, my mother, lying on the couch coughing and coughing and coughing. I see it again, her transparent skin, her body with no flesh on it, her tormented eyes. The last days, I only wanted to run for it- there was no-one to curse this time, nothing to be done- But I couldn't escape because she needed me. My father was totally lamed, he couldn't help her, he couldn't bear to be near her. And when she finally suffocated, he lost it. He cried and ranted and screamed for days on end. He was so desperate, I had to do something. He'd stopped eating. He'd stopped sleeping. As much as I wanted to drown in my own tears, I couldn't. He'd die too. So I took care of everything. I forced him to eat. I washed my mother, and dressed her in her newest creation she had been about to sell. I sent an owl to Madam Malkin. I tried to take care of the burial. Luckily, when Madam Malkin heard of my mother's death, she took care of that. All this time, I was distant to everything around me. I couldn't cry, or I would crumble.  
  
When she finally was buried, I noticed that I didn't cry at all during the ceremony. My father did, but had luckily regained some of his composure. Even in the weeks after that, when he slowly began to function normally again to the outside world, and it was safe for me to finally give in, I noticed I didn't have the desire to do so. My tears didn't reach my eyes. Instead, I had the feeling that they had frozen in my chest. I was happy, because I felt protected by the ice. My heart was no longer that vulnerable, no longer that open to the raw outside world. 


	4. Getting to Hogwarts

(Authors note: According to Order of the Phoenix, Narcissa comes from the old and rich House of Black. Knowing that, this fic is completely out of canon, and should therefore from now on be considered an A/U fic).  
  
______________________________________________________________________  
  
I had to stop writing yesterday because your father came in. He has been guarding me like a watchdog; he seems to be uneasy if I'm out of his sight for long. Curious, he usually didn't care very much for what I did. Now he checks on me every few hours, and he seems to hate it when he gets summoned. His attitude around the house has changed, too. Sometimes I would almost think he's feeling rather insecure. He moves carefully around me, as if I am a porcelain doll that might break when he touches me. He has developed a strange habit of speaking in a soft voice around me as well. Last night, he opened the door so carefully I didn't even hear him enter.  
  
"Darling, didn't Libby tell you dinner is served?" He startled me of course. I looked up without really seeing him, as my vision was strangely blurred. He looked shocked. "You're crying, dear!" I hadn't really noticed that, for it seems to have become only natural to do so. It doesn't seem to be able to let up. Well, so be it. A little moist on my cheeks doesn't hinder me in doing what I want to do. It is a little odd, though, because I don't remember crying at all for a fairly long time. And I must admit I was feeling rather shaky when your father lifted me from my chair.  
  
"Did you eat anything at all today, Narcissa?" he asked in an annoyingly worried tone. I did not bother answering to that. "You have got to eat!" he kept on lecturing me. "Come downstairs with me, eat something, take a nice hot bath and have a good night's sleep. Narcissa, I mean it!" he said while leading me to the living. "No," I snapped, because he really was becoming tedious. He put me in an armchair and waved his wand at the fire with a casual Incendio, making it sear up again. This made me wonder, till I saw that the clock was on the "You should have been in bed ages ago" we installed for you. "If you don't want to eat, at least drink this," he sighed and snapped his fingers. Libby appeared with a crack, and offered me a steaming goblet. I only took it because your father had sounded so exasperated, which was adorable, really.  
  
He must have put some somniaserum in it, because I woke up in the bed this morning. He wasn't there, which is good, because I am much rather alone with you. I know you want me to go on, and so I will.  
  
*  
  
My mother's death marked the end of an area in more than one way. Shortly after, a tide of excitement swept through Knockturn Alley: the talk of a new, powerful dark wizard. This man was causing the Ministry a lot of trouble, and trouble for the Ministry was good news for "us". It meant more freedom in experimenting. Borgin's & Burkes proudly displayed a range of objects I couldn't wait to get my hands on. The rituals I could perform when I got hold of these. One of those would be sufficient to wipe at least ten of those potion brewing squibs away!  
  
My father, on the other hand, was horrified (as usual), and tried everything to keep me inside. He started to teach me for at least eight hours a day. There wasn't much he could teach me about Latin and Greek. The old books were written in those languages, I was already better than him. But I became fluent in French and my manners were nothing short of perfect. And I am thankful for that. It made my time at Hogwarts much easier.  
  
Yes, Hogwarts. I persuaded your father to send you there for a reason. It was not that Durmstrang was too far away. I would have sent you to China if I thought it would benefit you. But I was happy there, dear Draco, and I so wanted you to be too. Your life at home was getting more and more miserable, and whatever your father might have said, I know you were on the verge of cracking. If there ever was anything good I have done for you in my cursed life, it was sending you to Hogwarts.  
  
I'm so glad that you were oblivious to the fact that it was an ordeal for me to go shopping for your school things. All the sideway glances of the people who remembered me, all the sarcastic comments of the shopkeepers, "Ah, Mrs Malfoy, I suppose you're going to need a while?" or "I trust that still only the best is good enough for you?" You didn't realise what they meant, of course, but these sweetly uttered sentences could make my blood boil. What they were referring to were the humiliating shopping trips I was forced to make every year to get halfway suitable school supplies. I still cringe when I think about it.  
  
You may have taken going to Hogwarts for granted, but for me, that certainly wasn't the case. Hardly any of the Knockturn Alley children made it to Hogwarts. Five Sickles for a second-hand book, when a family needed every Knut? You could apply for Ministry Scholarships, but that would have meant revealing were you could be found- not an intelligent idea for people who normally had more than one year in Azkaban hanging over their heads. Besides, my father was supposed to have stolen from the Ministry, and due to his criminal record, couldn't apply for a Ministry scholarship. He was still unemployed, and we were eating the little savings my mother had managed to put aside for difficult times. He couldn't even apply for a Muggle job, because my family never bothered to have anything to do with that. (Naturally, I would have cursed him before letting him descend to that level.) So I prepared myself for another couple of years in Knockturn Alley.  
  
Then a small miracle happened. Albus Dumbledore, recently appointed Headmaster of Hogwarts, wrote to me that I was the second pupil in Hogwarts to receive a "Grant of the Hogwarts Four", a scholarship that had very recently been installed. However, there was a problem. The Grant didn't consist of money, but of tickets: one for a wand, one for a set of school books and other academically essential objects, and one for a set of school robes. I would enter a shop, and a hopeful assistant would come running to know how he could be of service. However, as soon as he'd seen my ticket, his expression would change and become utterly arrogant. He would usher me to the shelf with second hand things and not take any notice of me. If you'd known about the humiliation, you would have never looked at me again.  
  
I wasn't an ordinary eleven-year old, however. I wouldn't be intimidated by some shop-assistant! I have always felt that self-confidence, or arrogance, is based on a feeling of natural superiority. Now, the only reason why the assistant could consider himself above me was that I was younger, and therefore, in his opinion, weaker. I, on the other hand, could have him haunted by some of his worst nightmares in a matter of hours. I was ten times his superior! He thought he could be arrogant to me? Very well, I would show him some arrogance! By the end of the following hour I had usually made so many denigrating remarks that I had scared at least half of the customers out of the shop, who would mutter phrases like: "There's a nice bookshop in Hogsmeade too, I'll just order it there." or "Those robes really are overpriced, let's order them from Bangkok." The manager of Flourish and Blott's, for example, at last gave me the deluxe version of the schoolbooks for my ticket, hissing that he didn't want to see me until start of next term again, or he'd hex me on the spot. Smiling sweetly, I told him I would strongly advise against that. Yes, I got my way, and have since then, but I'm usually forced to do my shopping in Paris nowadays.  
  
I must admit, when I finally arrived at Hogwarts, I was quite anxious for two reasons. I didn't want anyone to find out where I came from, although my father had told me there was no shame in that- "Ravenclaws are quite sensible enough to understand." And, most importantly, I dreaded having to belong to Ravenclaw. That House was bound to soften me up and make me unsuitable for real life, if it was inhibited by weaklings like my father. But when I walked to the stool and put on the hat, I was determined not to show my fear. It was over very soon. "Well I never," the hat whispered in my ear, not a little bit surprised. "I didn't think I'd see the day that I'd sort a Redgrave into SLYTHERIN!"  
  
I was pleasantly shocked when I walked to the table that I had escaped Ravenclaw, but was immediately worried about how my father would react. Pondering that, I sat down. On my right was a girl named Pruedence Parkinson, who smiled at me nervously. I smiled back and turned to watch the rest of the Sorting, when suddenly from the other side somebody whispered in my ear: "Good day, princess."  
  
Startled, I turned around quickly and stared into a pair of black eyes. I recognised him at once. The sallow skin, the vigilant, cunning gaze- this boy must have been living in Knockturn Alley for quite some time. I opened my mouth to protest, but he cut me short. "There's no point denying it, little miss Redgrave. The Headmaster told me you were coming personally. He also made me swear to keep it a secret, not to worry. I only want to advise you to be careful. They will keep a close watch on you."  
  
"How do you know what I'm called? I don't know you!" I asked breathlessly, keeping my voice as low as possible. "Severus Snape," he said hastily. "You must have been four when I went to Hogwarts, and I usually rather avoid coming back frequently. But still," he added with a knowing smile, "you've made quite a name for yourself."  
  
"Did I?" I said, feeling very flattered.  
  
"Yes and it was profoundly stupid of you. Dark Arts are not that appreciated by our Ministry, are they?" He leaned closer, and I noticed a glimmer in his eyes. "That might change soon enough. Better keep a low profile while you're here, though."  
  
"D'you reckon?" I said, slightly disappointed, "but I'm desperate to find out more. There's supposed to be a Restricted Section with really interesting books."  
  
"Shush!" He looked around carefully. "Let's not talk about that here. The Sorting's almost over." He looked at me again thoughtfully, raising one eyebrow. "It's a shame you've just missed Lucius. He would have been most delighted to have met you. Although I think he would have been surprised to find his arch-enemy in Slytherin."  
  
"What, a Malfoy?" I straightened up. "I have no desire at all to meet that nouveau-riche git."  
  
He laughed. "You're certainly as proud as he is! Anyway, enough talking. I am going to sit somewhere else, otherwise you are not going to make any acquaintances. And I repeat: don't do anything stupid." But I was intrigued. "Wait! I want to know how-"  
  
"Tomorrow, common room!" and with those words, he stood up.  
  
I spent the rest of the night chatting with Pruedence Parkinson, Hera Bullstrode and Eryn Zabini, but my eyes kept wandering to that lone figure at the end of the table, and I couldn't wait to talk to him again. 


	5. Severus

Thank Merlin for Severus Snape. He prevented me from becoming what he himself was- an outcast. For I soon learned that other rules applied around here. Life seemed so falsely innocent. Eryn could go on hours and hours about how her brother had done something "unforgivable", when he had only used her bunny as a guinea pig to practice his vanishing spell on- what did it *matter* that she only had half a bunny left?  
  
Severus would sneer when I told them my friend's pity worries, but he encouraged not to mock them for it. "They don't seem dangerous, but they can break you. Be ahead of them. Don't tell them anything they could use against you."  
  
He was often alone, Severus. He didn't seem to feel at ease when in a room full of people, not even in the Slytherin common room. He'd be tucked in an armchair by the fire, reading. But he was never unguarded. When somebody provoked him, he'd jinx the person immediately (he had a very true aim). His eyes were watchful and he was never short of a denigrating comment. In short, people thought of him as a slimy git. And that was because he didn't want to give them one thing: his secrets.  
  
Most ordinary, shallow people can't stand secrets. They get frightened by them. They want to be able to place you in a nice category. They do love gossip, but only when they have the feeling, deep down, that nothing frightening is going to emerge from below the surface. Because if there's a horrible thing they can't handle, they get frightened too.  
  
Severus helped me to understand this strange need of people. We reacted differently to it, though. He had always refused to make up cover stories like I did. He rather just kept his secrets until he chose to reveal them to you- which he practically never did.  
  
I loved those sparse moments when we could sit together, saying nothing, enjoying each others company. I usually spent time with Eryn, Hera and Pruedence, pretending to be an eleven-year old like them, chatting and laughing and with nothing to worry about but house points and grades. But when we both knew that nobody was there, I would seek out Severus. He was very protective of me, and he taught me some very valuable things about the ancient magic I had been experimenting with.  
  
"You have been too obvious," he said when I first asked him about it. "You probably skipped a few things when they were hard to do, isn't it?"  
  
I nodded, a little embarrassed.  
  
"You've caused people some great damage," he went on. "Some of the experiments went terribly wrong. One child became so ill that the parents demanded an investigation by the Ministry. They could trace things back to you."  
  
"To me?" I swallowed. "But I never heard anything about it."  
  
"That's only because they couldn't believe a child of your age, with no magical education, could do such things. They thought that they had to be wrong, and some friends of your father convinced them."  
  
"My father's still got friends?" I asked, flabbergasted. "Then why are we still living in Knockturn Alley?"  
  
"He might have refused their help," said Severus casually. "Anyway."  
  
"No, this is important!" I was seething. "He chooses to live there? He chooses to let *me* live there?"  
  
"I don't know, princess!" said Severus, slightly annoyed. "The only thing I know is that you, and I, for that matter, haven't received that Grant coincidently! You're no thunderhead, but you've been using your skills wrongly. Now, if you'll hear me out, I'll tell you what you have to do."  
  
And then he told me one of the most important things that I ever learned: complete secrecy. This magic was supposed to be completely undetectable, because it was designed to be used at a time when wizards and muggles lived among each other. Everything that happened had to seem a complete coincidence. Nobody was to have the faintest clue that their misfortune was caused by magic.  
  
"This means great power," Severus said, "but no recognition, no glory." He also told me that the written instructions weren't what they seemed. "See this dot?" he said while showing me a piece of parchment with a rather simple ritual on it. "It's a rune. It means 'reverse', so you have to do exactly the opposite of what is stated here to get the desired effect."  
  
When seeing this, my spirits sank. "I won't be able to study Ancient Runes till third year. Besides, I'm not allowed in the Restricted Section, and there's not much on Rituals elsewhere ."  
  
At this, Severus' eyes started to glitter. "I'm taking my Defense Against the Dark Arts Newt this year. As an exceptionally gifted student, I am allowed to take books from the Restricted Section. Especially since this new wizard is gaining power the Headmaster wants us to be prepared for a little more than the everyday hex. And it states nowhere that you are not allowed to study in the same common room. I, for one don't think you're talent should be wasted." A smile spread across my face, and Severus grinned maliciously. "Now, I know the perfect Ritual for a sleepless night you can practice on mr. Black."  
  
And thus, thanks to Severus, at the end of the year I was able to perform simple rituals successfully without anyone knowing. For this I used a tiny room down in the Dungeons were nobody ever bothered going, because that part was very cold and damp and the room looked like nothing more than a broom closet.  
  
I knew I was successful when Severus came to meet me one day, evidently feeling miserable: "Why, for the love of Merlin, are you practicing on me?!"  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"Yes you are. You don't get a cold like this overnight."  
  
"Severus, you know I can only do colds at new moon. It's full moon. Go get some Pepper Up Potion."  
  
"O great," he sulked. "I really don't fancy walking around with steam coming out of my ears for the rest of the day."  
  
"I've cursed that Potter boy with a very obnoxious headache, if that makes you feel any better," I said, grinning. "Hufflepuff is bound to win the match today."  
  
"Well, at least that's something. I'll be off then." And he walked away, muttering.  
  
I miss him so much, Severus. He helped making my time at Hogwarts the most carefree I ever had. Now we can look each other in the eye anymore, since your father considers him a traitor and I can't stand the way Severus looks at me nowadays. He can still see right through me, and his looks scorch.  
  
Shortly before the Dark Lord met his downfall, we had an enormous row at the Manor. He'd come to see both your father and I, and wanted us to reconsider where our loyalties lay. Your father threw him out. I've only seen him once since then- but I want to tell you about other times, happy times. 


	6. Complete secrecy

Complete secrecy. We have taught you about that well, your father and I, haven't we? I had to learn the hard way when I arrived home after my first year.  
  
When I saw my father, I noticed something was terribly wrong. He had only once looked this livid, and that was when Claudius Malfoy had tried to hit me.  
  
He didn't utter a word when he saw me, but only jerked his head to indicate he wanted me to hurry. I didn't dare say goodbye to my friends but followed him straight away to a shabby Thestral driven carriage. He put my trunk on the roof while I stepped inside, said "Knockturn Alley," then joined me in the cramped room and shut the door with a snap.  
  
Now, I had expected him to have a bit of a problem with me being in Slytherin, but this reception was worse than I had ever imagined. He radiated so much suppressed anger that I didn't dare look at him. Out of the corner of my eye I saw he plunged his hand into his robes and pulled out three objects: a cross, dangling upside down from a little bit of string, a small pentagram, and, to my horror, the little voodoo doll I had completely forgotten about.  
  
"Explain." The words sounded like a whiplash.  
  
"Well, I- er-" But I was at loss for words, and my father didn't wait for me to stop stuttering.  
  
"I couldn't believe the accusations at first. My daughter, doing Dark Magic! The idea was preposterous." He shook his head. "And then I found this, inside your mattress."  
  
"Well, daddy, there were these brats, and I-" But he held up his hand.  
  
"Be quiet. I don't want to know why you did this. I don't want to talk about it any further. You're going to give me all of these foul things you might still possess and I'm going to destroy them. I'm not angry about this, Narcissa," he said, making me look up in surprise, "nor disappointed. I'm disgusted."  
  
I felt absolutely horrible. For a fleeting second, I considered never doing a Ritual again. But then I thought about the tingling sensation of magic shooting through my fingertips, and thought the better of it.  
  
"I don't want you out of my sight this holiday, and if I ever catch you in Borgin's and Burke's again, young lady, I'm not taking any responsibility for the consequences. Have I made myself clear?"  
  
"Yes, father."  
  
There was a long, stony silence until my father spoke. This time, the frostiness in his voice was gone, and he sounded almost like himself again. He reached out and put his hand on my arm.  
  
"What has happened to you, Narcissa? Is it because of your mother?" I scowled, having no idea what my mother had to do with anything. "You used to be such a sweet little girl. You were her pride and joy. But now- I don't dare think about what she'd say when she knew about this, and you being with that filthy Slytherin lot-"  
  
"Slytherin is a House for people with ambition and determination!" I spat, suddenly feeling as if there was hot venom shooting through my veins. "You could use a bit of that, it would help you find a *job* and buy some decent robes!"  
  
Smack! He'd slapped me across the face. I was perplexed. (You wouldn't have been, my boy, but my father had never done anything like that to me before.) Two seconds we looked each other in the eyes, a silent battle of wills. Then I gave in, and looked down again, caressing my cheek.  
  
"For your information, I have found employment," my father said, his words dripping with contempt. "I was going to buy you something to celebrate it, but I don't think you deserve a reward right now if you think you can afford to behave so shamefully."  
  
Once again, I jerked my head up in surprise. "A job? What kind of job?"  
  
"I'm translating Defense Against the Dark Arts guides," he said curtly. My high hopes sank again. Nobody had ever become rich by translating books.  
  
And sure enough, he never did, but our situation improved slightly: he was now able to give a little bit of pocket money, which I usually saved for the odd amulet, so I didn't have to resort to stealing any more. Because I didn't stop doing Rituals, of course.  
  
No, I'd only just begun.  
  
Complete secrecy. Before I started my first year, and even while at Hogwarts, I hadn't understood what these two words implied. With a highly suspicious father around, I soon learned. It was not only about not telling people things they could use against me; it was learning how I could make people trust me enough not to suspect anything.  
  
My father was so easily fooled, it was embarrassing. The only I had to do was to pretend to be the 'sweet little girl' he wanted to have for a daughter. After only four weeks, he thought he had been wrong about me.  
  
The following years, I learned almost as much during the Holidays as during term. In school I practiced all the new Rituals I read about secretly during the summer. And my father's job brought unexpected advantages, too. He was always very busy; the demand for the guides grew every year, as the attacks increased. This meant he couldn't watch me all day. Also, for those who could read them properly, the guides concealed very valuable information about the Dark Magic they were supposed to arm against. The pages were littered with clues how to perform this magic. ( I suspected them to be written by witches and warlocks who wanted inform followers without losing their good reputations.)  
  
At school, all was going very well. I had a nice gang of girls to spend time with, had good grades, overall, especially in subjects that required little use of a wand such as Potions, Ancient Runes and Arithmancy (Transfiguration was still pure torture); had become very adept at dodging questions about my whereabouts during the Summer Holidays, and, most importantly, was very popular with the boys. They'd send me gifts I always took (the jewellery would make a good price in Knockturn Alley), took me out on Hogsmeade weekends, offered me to stay at their homes. Those flings never lasted long, because when the boys became too attached, they'd annoy me. I never felt anything for them but physical attraction. It was always funny to speculate about how long they it would take before they'd start demanding more than a kiss. At that moment, I always dumped them.  
  
Life was pleasant, very pleasant, but sometimes I would still lie awake at nights, pondering. I missed Severus very much. I had all but lost contact with him since he had graduated. The occasional owl he sent did not contain very much news about him, he would usually ask me how I was and if my "further studies" were going according to plan. I still heeded his words and didn't tell a soul about my occasional trips to the little room in the Dungeons. And he had been right about one other thing as well: the Rituals did give me great power, but no recognition, least of all glory. In everyday life, opposed to my friends, I seemed quite harmless: my tongue wasn't as razor- sharp as Prudence's, I wasn't as adept as Eryn in getting other people into trouble for something that I had done, and I couldn't punch nearly as hard as Hera. I wasn't even despised by Gryffindors! Occasionally, I heard people wonder why I hadn't been put in Ravenclaw!  
  
This began to infuriate me more and more: after all, I was the one who had had the greatest influence on the things that happened at school, much more than the other three of them together. Slytherin winning the House Cup for so many years in a row was mostly my doing, as I had effectively lost Ravenclaw and Gryffindor points by cursing them at exactly the right moments, making them do worse than they could have done. But of course I couldn't show it, they would have surely expelled me. As the Dark Lord grew stronger, the teachers got more and more paranoid about the Dark Arts. I had to be extremely careful; I avoided patterns at all costs, even if that meant not getting back at annoying Gryffindors or even Hufflepuffs.  
  
Instead, I bided my time as well as I could and worked feverishly at improving the skills that would help me do the really complicated Rituals after graduation, but weren't considered "suspicious" for now: DADA, Herbology, Potions, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes and Astronomy. But it was hard. Sometimes I wished somebody would find out, even if that meant expulsion, so that this exhausting secrecy could finally end. But I was much too good at hiding. Nobody had a clue, least of all my father. And I had to confess to myself that that bothered me very much.  
  
My father and I hadn't really talked to each other since my first time back from Hogwarts. Sure enough, we had written to each other weekly, and during the Holidays, had spent many evenings discussing magic by the fire in our little house; but he has never had the faintest suspicion when I smuggled a book on Dark Magic in, saying it was an older copy of "A Guide to Intermediate Potions." He trusted his 'sweet little girl', this figment of his imagination, completely, and he loved her to bits. But he never appreciated or even acknowledged my special talent for the Ancient Arts. He only was mildly amused about my fixation for those subjects. He didn't know anything about me, and this hurt, even though I didn't want to acknowledge it at the time. I pretended to be happy with this state of peaceful coexistence, but I secretly craved recognition. I wanted to test my powers, my real powers, against a worthy adversary. However, at the end of my fifth year, I had accepted that nobody would probably ever find out who this 'sweet little girl' really was.  
  
And then I met your father. 


	7. Masquerade I

(Author's Note: Sorry for the long wait! I've been writing this chapter for ages and I've decided to post it in two parts because it's getting insanely long. Part two should be finished soon! Thanks to all my lovely reviewers, I will thank you all personally when my story is finished.)  
  
Masquerade- part one  
  
The day vividly stands out in my mind. It was Saturday, November 26th, and we were just about to start dinner when Pruedence let out a very audible gasp.  
  
"O great Merlin!" and she pointed at the door.  
  
Immediately I understood what she meant. Three visitors had just come in. Two of them where rather old school governors; the third, however, was in his twenties. My heart skipped a beat when I saw him. He was tall, blond, and absolutely irresistible. He was the embodiment of 'noblesse'. The fulfilment of my every dream.  
  
Then I realised who he was talking to. The resemblance between the two was striking. The older man might have changed a little as the years passed (his once jet black hair was now streaked with grey) but I would never forget those eyes, or that cane, or his taunting words: "I do hope the fleas make good pets, *my lady*."  
  
"Malfoy," I whispered.  
  
"Yes, isn't he gorgeous?!" Eryn went on swooning.  
  
"'Nouveau riche' scum, all of them," I said, trying to sound uninterested.  
  
"You must be mad," said Hera. "He's pureblood, he's rich-"  
  
"He's single!" shrieked Pruedence.  
  
"Weren't you going out with Daniel Nott?" Eryn asked, quizzingly looking at Pruedence, who hadn't taken her eyes of the younger Malfoy man since he'd come in.  
  
"I was, till now," said Pruedence matter-of-factly.  
  
I rolled my eyes at them and started eating. I didn't feel like listening to them drooling over the blond young man anymore. At the sight of Malfoy sr. I had felt a surge of hatred, so strong that I had to restrain myself not to do anything. So I manically chewed a piece of meat, determined not to look at Malfoy or his gorgeous son.  
  
I was still very preoccupied with ignoring the High Table when Eryn nudged me forcefully in the side, whispering: "He's coming our way!" Just when I was about to grunt "Don't care!" at her I felt that somebody was standing behind me. I looked over my shoulder and glared up at the blond man.  
  
"Do you mind? I'm eating."  
  
"Tut, tut, Redgrave, that's not a very polite way of greeting a visitor." He spoke in a sarcastic, somewhat drawling voice.  
  
I turned halfway around again. "Has no one ever bothered to teach you it is not polite to start a conversation without introducing oneself?" I said sharply.  
  
He looked surprised at first, but then grinned maliciously. "You must be very ignorant, Redgrave, not to know the Malfoy family. Or very ashamed. Merlin knows, I would be when I'd sunk so low."  
  
This time, I turned around to him completely and looked him up and down. Then I put on my haughtiest smile. "Now why would I be ashamed? I will always be more respectable than the likes of you no matter how low I might sink."  
  
"I see, the decent surroundings have already gone to your head. This exactly why I've always thought Hogwarts shouldn't teach urchins who can't even pay for their own schoolbooks. It makes them forget their place."  
  
He was utterly infuriating in his arrogance, with his lips curled in a constant mocking sneer. He was really begging to be humiliated. That's why I laughed sarcastically and said:  
  
"You 'nouveau riche' are all so insufferably predictable. You always think prestige can be bought. I'm talking about descent, Malfoy, not something as vulgar as money. At least my lineage has never been contaminated in any way- "  
  
"Are you insinuating that my family is not pure-blood?" he whispered dangerously.  
  
"Oh no, they couldn't have been, could they? You should know your family's history a little better, Malfoy. Do you honestly believe that back in the Middle Ages your family would have been allowed to work on my family's land, if you hadn't been pure-blood? You might have been nothing but serfs, but even our peasants had to be pure-blood to be good enough for us." He looked absolutely baffled at this, so I continued: "It is in 'Nature's Nobility, a wizarding Genealogy', chapter two."  
  
"You've got a little too much nerve, you little pauper." His hand was trembling and travelled to his pocket, undoubtedly to get his wand.  
  
"So you are going to attack me now?" I said with a sneer. "That wouldn't be very sophisticated, would it? *Not* that it surprises me.After all, once a peasant, always a peasant."  
  
"You will take that back!" he said in a loud voice, so that people looked up to see what was happening. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Claudius Malfoy stand up, beckoning his son with a warning gaze. He looked at his father; then bent over to me once more.  
  
"No-one insults my family, least of all a Redgrave. One would *think* you lot would have understood the message by now. This shan't be over yet."  
  
"Is that a promise?" I said, smiling innocently.  
  
"That's a threat."  
  
"I can hardly wait." We stared at each other for a second; then I returned to my roast with the words: "You'd better clear off now, peasant boy, it seems your daddy is getting impatient." Before stalking off, he gave me one last marrow-chilling glare. I answered by waving sweetly at him.  
  
When I turned around to face the table again, I saw my three friends gaping at me.  
  
"You really are mad," Hera repeated weakly.  
  
"What, it's only a family tradition!"  
  
"Why was he calling you an urchin all the time?" Prudence asked puzzled.  
  
"He's lying, of course. It's part of the tradition."  
  
"Tradition or not, you're in for a rough time, Narcissa," Eryn said, looking a little frightened. "Nobody messes with the Malfoys."  
  
I went to bed that night feeling very cheerful. You could have worse adversaries than a rich, pureblood, gorgeous young man. This was going to be a riot.  
  
Now, that's not the story you always used to hear your father tell at parties, is it, my boy? According to him, I was begging him to marry me from the first time we met. Naturally, we couldn't tell the original story- it contained too much 'classified information'. However, it became harder and harder to keep smiling gracefully when he made me look stupid in front of the Minister for Magic yet again. Over the years I've gotten the shrewd suspicion that this was his way of getting back at me for the times I've made him lose face. Because in the following year, we didn't miss a single opportunity to play a nasty trick on one another.  
  
However, at first I hadn't taken your father's threat very seriously. Students and school governors rarely met, and when they did, it was always in a room full of people. Naively, I thought that this would prevent him from doing me any harm. (That was a classic beginner's fault, I know, your father still ridicules me about it.) I wasn't very vigilant, therefore, when opening my Christmas presents a month later. (I usually stayed at Hogwarts for Christmas because of the superb, free feast and the comfort the castle offered. Knockturn Alley in December was nothing to look forward to.)  
  
It wasn't a large pile, and that's why I spotted the 'extra presents' (presents that couldn't come from my father or my friends) immediately: one was a small needle from Severus ("Growler & Grump's: for all your specialist voodoo equipment"- so sweet!) and the other a small, charmingly wrapped box that contained one of the most beautiful bottles of perfume I had ever seen. I looked for a card, but it wasn't there. Deciding it must have come from yet another secret admirer, I took the flacon in my hand again and opened it to smell. Divine. I was stroking the flacon, still enchanted by its sheer brilliance, when I noticed something. There was something engraved in the crystal. A tiny "B". Where had I seen that symbol before again?  
  
At that moment, Eryn, who stayed over this year as well, saw the perfume.  
  
"That's so gorgeous," she said, running to my bed. "Can I hold it?"  
  
"Yeah," I said absentmindedly and gave her the flask.  
  
Two seconds too late, I realised the symbol belonged to Borgin's and Burke's. By then, Eryn had sprayed the perfume all over me and I felt like being doused in acid. Big red boils appeared on my otherwise flawless skin. Screaming hysterically, I ran to the hospital wing. It took two weeks for my boils to disappear and because I looked so terrible, I had to stay in the hospital wing for all this time. When Eryn visited me later that day and asked in a horribly appalled voice: "What was that?" I answered grimly:  
  
"A declaration of war."  
  
I was lucky that your father was preparing to become a Hogwarts school governor that year. He had dinner at Hogwarts every Saturday from January onwards, so I had a lot of time to observe him.  
  
My friends reckon I was acting 'a tad obsessed' in the period that followed. Which was complete nonsense, of course. I wasn't obsessed; I was focused. If you want to damage your enemy effectively, you've got to know what his weak points are. I wasn't in any way 'entranced' (that's the way Pruedence likes to put it). Not that it was unpleasant to observe your father! He was always impeccably dressed, good mannered, confident, charming, bitingly witty, intelligent and eloquent. Very much like Malfoy sr., in fact. But I noticed a certain tension between them. He always treated his father with the utmost reverence, but he didn't seem to do so out of genuine respect. There was too much strain in his composure for that.  
  
But that wasn't my problem. Another thing I noticed was how much your father seemed to care about his hair. It was never out of place. Ever. Believe me, it was uncanny. Stranger still was that it didn't make him seem one bit less masculine.  
  
It took me some time too find the right spell, but after two months, I had managed to make eighty per cent of his hair fall out overnight.  
  
It must have been a horrifying sight for him. When he came back to Hogwarts, after not having been there for two weeks, he kept his hat one during dinner, something I had never seen him do before. Even with a hat, his head looked miserable. The little hair he still had looked lifeless and brittle, it resembled straw that's been lying in the sun for too long. He bombarded me with looks of pure venom for the rest of the night. The following day, I received a letter full of Butober puss. He needn't have done that, I had already decided to lift the curse anyway. I preferred to observe him with his hair.  
  
It went on and on like that. I would curse him and he would find a way to hex me. We even started writing each other hate mail in which we called each other by the names 'urchin' and 'peasant'. I was enjoying it immensely, and was becoming less and less cautious. I only realised how far I had gone when Claudius Malfoy stopped the two of us.  
  
"He can't take my Grant! Professor, you can't let him!" I was sitting in Dumbledore's office, clenching my fists.  
  
"Calm down, miss Redgrave, nobody is taking your Grant away. Governor Malfoy was only suggesting it. In his opinion, children from 'neglected area's' like Knockturn Alley in London could form a danger to Hogwarts, due to their 'high risk' backgrounds."  
  
"That's nonsense, sir, I never did anything wrong."  
  
He looked at me intently over his half moon spectacles. "It is quite true that, as far as we know, you haven't broken any school rules during your stay, and are therefore in no danger whatsoever of losing your right to study here." Something in the way he said this made me feel there was more coming. And sure enough: "But you would agree with me that many strange coincidences have been occurring time and time again, especially this year, wouldn't you? If somebody would be willing to investigate the matter very, very thoroughly, this might cause you problems." "Well, I don't know, I mean, I wouldn't see why-" I hated the way my cheeks burned.  
  
"Neither would the other governors. I would like to warn you, though, miss Redgrave. If you do engage in activities that are slightly 'ambivalent', I advise you to cease doing them immediately. Mr. Malfoy can be very thorough as well as persuasive."  
  
So everything went back to normal. I packed my bags for the Holidays and went home. But between my robes I had securely packed the beautiful perfume bottle. 


	8. Masquerade II

"Look at this!" my father said two months later, reading the Daily Prophet. "They keep inventing the most outrageous explanations for what's been happening lately." He showed me the headlines: The 'Knights of Walpurgis' on the loose again.  
  
"Who are the 'Knights of Walpurgis'?" I said, looking up from my runes.  
  
"They were an old wizarding fencing society," explained my father, still shaking his head disbelievingly. "Early 17th century. Some kind of fraternity. They modelled it after a Muggle institution. Something like 'masket queers' they were called, I believe."  
  
"Fencing? Why would they fence? They had wands back then, didn't they?"  
  
"They did, but it was al about Muggle pestering. They would challenge the Muggle for a duel, fence a bit for fun, and before the Muggle knew it, he would be jinxed. It was highly opposed by the Ministry, of course. The wizarding community was severely persecuted at the time. And then those young lads went out and jinxed every Muggle who was foolish enough to duel them. Absolutely intolerable."  
  
"O, I don't know. Sounds like fun to me." My father frowned at me. "It wasn't 'fun', it was dangerous to our community! Anyway, some people think they've returned."  
  
"Why is that?" I said, smiling sceptically.  
  
"It's a bit silly, really. There have been more and more Muggle disappearings lately, and an increase in attacks. This reporter thinks the two might be linked. He also thinks this must have been done by an organised group. But to actually suggest that this group is the same as the Muggle torturing fraternity from almost three hundred years ago is quite far-fetched."  
  
That's how many people thought at the time. We both know the reporter would be proven quite right.  
  
Seventh year began. For the first time I didn't really look forward to it. I felt strangely empty. I didn't know what I wanted to do with my life, and I envied my friends, who didn't have to think about that. For them, a time of endless partying would begin, a time to find a suitable husband. After all, they were secure, their families all had faults full of gold. They wouldn't have to work a single day in their life, even if they didn't succeed in finding a partner. I felt lost.  
  
However, at the Opening Feast Dumbledore announced something that took my mind of gloomy prospects.  
  
"As a special request of the Fat Friar, who is about to celebrate his 300th Death Day this year, we will have a very festive celebration of Halloween. We will not only have the pleasure of devouring another of these superb feasts, but also the opportunity to dress up." The boys looked a bit worried at this, but the girls were delighted.  
  
"What's going to happen?" a Hufflepuff girl asked eagerly.  
  
"Were going to have a masquerade!" the Fat Friar said, positively bursting with glee. "I was never allowed to go to one in my own lifetime. It will be so much fun!"  
  
"You mean a real ball?" a Gryffindor girl said. "With music and dancing and everything?"  
  
"Everything!" the Fat Friar answered happily.  
  
You probably understand that this news dominated the conversations in the girl's dormitories from that moment on. Some people really wanted to impersonate someone (Hera wanted to go as Medusa, she reckoned having snakes for hair would be cool) others just wanted to look pretty. Even more important were the boys. Boys, boys, boys, that's all they wanted to talk about. They resembled excited house-elfs, and you know how much they always annoy me!  
  
I'd been asked myself a few times but I didn't want to go with anyone. Why? I didn't know. The boys were all so childish, even the ones who had plucked up the courage to ask me, and those were mostly not the least popular. (Hera didn't find a date either, but then again, she was intending to go with a hissing and biting head.)  
  
Eryn didn't mind, because now Daniel Nott could go out with her. Pruedence smiled knowingly. "Waiting for the charming dinner guest, aren't you?"  
  
"No," I snapped. "I wasn't the one who instantly dumped her boyfriend at the sight of him."  
  
"Why are you so worked up about your costume then?"  
  
She had a point there. Two weeks before the ball, I still hadn't found a costume, and was becoming grumpier and grumpier. One week before the big day, I decided I just wouldn't go. To cheer myself up I bought an enormous amount of Chocolate Frogs and began stuffing myself with them.  
  
And then I suddenly found the solution to my problem. On a wizard card. Morgaine, a.k.a. Morgan le Fay. ca. 600 AD. Mighty sorceress and priestess of Avalon. Half sister and adversary to King Arthur, as well as mother of their son Mordred.  
  
She had a mass of black curls, wore red priestesses robes, and, most importantly, a golden tiara with the rune for 'princess' on it. It was like looking in an odd mirror. She looked nothing like me, and I still felt like seeing myself for the first time.  
  
I bought second-hand dark red dress robes and started to transform them. Obviously, I had inherited my mother's talent: not a single stitch went wrong. Out of the same fabric I made a red mask.  
  
On the 31th. I spent a lot of time bewitching my hair to make it raven black and extremely curly. I held it back with a red tiara, coloured my lips blood red and made my lashes as thick and black as possible. Because of this, my face seemed even paler than usual, and my eyes shone. For the first time, they were really sparkling, and their blue was the blue of sapphires.  
  
My appearance wasn't the most important difference, though. Looking stunning was nothing new to me; I have always been beautiful. But for the first time since I came to Hogwarts, I felt uninhibited. That night, I felt truly like myself. Therefore, I wasn't afraid or even embarrassed to go up to the ball alone (Eryn and Pruedence were meeting their dates in the common room and Hera was still trying to stop the snakes biting her all the time).  
  
The Great Hall looked dazzling; there were giant pumpkins everywhere with candles in them that gave the Hall a soft glow. Small tables were set up, each with a few candles on them; the biggest ones seating around twelve persons (but there where many smaller ones too, so couples or friends could talk more privately). The Ghosts were floating around, each one dressed up. They had all brought a partner. More and more people were coming from their common rooms, some looking rather nice, others just plain stupid. Walking towards a table seating six persons on the Slytherin side of the Hall, I had a clear view of the High Table. It had not been moved, but had been enlarged; there was now room for at least twenty extra people. A few governors were present, but luckily not Malfoy sr. All were already sitting at their places, chatting; however, the chair on the left of Dumbledore was empty, which was strange.  
  
As I tried to find out what this could mean, I didn't pay much attention to my surroundings for a moment. That's why I was again completely startled when I heard a soft whisper behind my back:  
  
"Good day, princess."  
  
I spun round. There he was, dressed completely in black and quite a lot taller, but still with that slightly mocking smile on his lips I had always liked so much.  
  
"Severus!"  
  
I leapt up, grinning from ear to ear. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but I knew that he wouldn't feel comfortable with that. Instead, I grasped both his hands.  
  
"You're here! Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"I'm not usually the surprising type, but I thought I'd make an exception for you."  
  
I was so happy I could hardly speak. I simply beamed at him. "I'm so glad to see you!"  
  
"Come, let's find a place where we can talk," he said, leading me to one of the tables for two.  
  
The first part of the dinner that followed was lovely. I chatted away, trying to make up for six years of hardly any contact in one evening by telling him numerous anecdotes about my years at Hogwarts. He smiled, and even laughed out loud a few times, but otherwise was very quiet. A few times I thought he was about to say something, but seemed to think the better of at the last moment.  
  
But when dessert arrived, I had run out of anecdotes, and a very awkward silence hung between us. I knew that it would be quite impossible to talk after the feast because then the ball would really begin. After two minutes of silence, I looked up from my ice cream and asked the question that I'd been meaning to ask all evening.  
  
"Why are you here, Severus?"  
  
He took a while to answer, as if he wanted to taste every word before he said it.  
  
"I'm here because I wanted to see you, princess."  
  
It was hard to try and see through him, but I knew from the way he said it, that wasn't true at all.  
  
"Why haven't come last week then? It was a Hogsmeade weekend after all. And it wasn't the first, you know," I added sharply. "I have been allowed to go on Hogsmeade weekends for four years now."  
  
"I know, princess. I just couldn't come." He shifted uneasily in his seat.  
  
"During six years?" I said sarcastically. "And you expect me to believe that?" He still didn't answer to this, something that made me even angrier. I pushed my plate away and stood up. "If you can't be honest with me, why are you here at all? If you think I'm a stupid little girl not worthy of your precious time, just say so, I'll be happy to leave. This is a complete waste of my time as well."  
  
He grabbed my arm and pulled me down again so quickly I almost lost my balance.  
  
"I wasn't being dishonest with you. If it hadn't been for you I would never have accepted the invitation of the Headmaster to be here tonight. I still don't know if it was wise to come. It's dangerous. For both of us. But I had to come. I've been worried sick."  
  
He certainly looked troubled, but I was still too angry to be appeased this easily. "Dangerous, hm? O, I understand. It probably is quite a risky business, visiting the safest place in wizarding Britain. How silly of me to forget!" I spat. "If you're trying to talk yourself out of this, you'll have to do a better job!"  
  
I expected a snarl at this, because that's how he normally reacted when things weren't going as he wanted them to go. Instead, he was looking thoughtful.  
  
"So they haven't told you anything yet." He leaned over to me. "But you must have noticed something! The attacks, the disappearings- you must know about those."  
  
"I know about those, but who cares? Only Muggles get attacked."  
  
"No, it's everywhere. I'd rather not tell you about this, because the more you know, the more danger you are in, but it's important." He sighed. "After I graduated, I worked in the Research Departement at St. Mungo's for two years. The salary was a joke, but it was an inspiring environment to work in. But when my chief stole my greatest discovery, I left."  
  
"What was that?"  
  
"Wolfsbane Potion," he went on, still looking furious at the thought of it. "I soon didn't have a single Knut, though. That's when somebody made me an offer to join him. He knew how much I detested the Ministry. It seemed very tempting at the time and I took it. The man is a powerful wizard, and working for him has been very rewarding, but I want to warn you for him, princess."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"There are going to be great changes. They haven't begun yet, but they will. Soon. And I don't want you to get caught up in them. You're in danger already."  
  
This all still seemed a bit vague to me, and I didn't like it. "So, what should I do against this 'danger'?"  
  
"I want you to stop doing Rituals."  
  
I was so surprised at this I burst out laughing, but when he didn't change his expression I abruptly stopped. "What?!"  
  
"The Headmaster told you this as well, didn't he? You've been absolutely irresponsible again, cursing Lucius every few weeks! Everybody with half a brain could figure out it was you! What where you thinking?"  
  
"That was a matter between that Malfoy git and myself. You've got nothing to do with it, do you understand! Nothing!" I would have gone on, but at that moment Dumbledore stood up.  
  
"And now we have all been fed and watered, I would like to ask the Fat Friar and his lovely partner to begin our second part of the evening by- "  
  
At that moment, the doors to the Great Hall flew open and three people walked in. They were all dressed in the same way: they wore silver hats with big black feathers on them, a black vest with silver sleeves, silver trousers, shiny knee-high black boots, silver capes with a black lining, black gloves and a black masks that completely covered their faces. On their sides, they all carried a dagger. Two of them walked rather clumsily and seemed to feel uncomfortable, but the one at the front acted as if he had never worn anything else in his life.  
  
A surprised, somewhat shocked silence fell. All eyes turned to the three men. I heard Severus take a very deep breath. In complete silence the three men walked towards the High Table. There they stood still. The first man bowed very slightly and said in a somewhat muffled voice: "A good night to you, Dumbledore! My apologies for the delay."  
  
Dumbledore said nothing but gave the men a very piercing look. The two hind men started to act a little uneasy when nobody spoke, but the first one didn't seem affected. When, after half a minute, Dumbledore still hadn't uttered a sound, he said: "Do go on!" a little impatiently. After another few tense moments, Dumbledore said:  
  
"Before this little disruption I was about to ask our dear Fat Friar to open the ball for us. If you please, Friar."  
  
Dumbledore hadn't taken his eyes of the men for a second, but turned to the middle of the Hall when the music started.  
  
I turned to Severus again and saw him staring at the three men, deadly pale and shaking in anger. "I had expected some trouble, but not Knights of Walpurgis!" he hissed. "This is the most outrageous provocation I have ever seen!" He turned to me. "Keep out of their way," he said slowly. "I don't want to see you talking to them, is that clear? Don't go near." And then he stood up and hurried to the High Table, where he and Dumbledore began a whispered conversation.  
  
When I saw him walk away my anger evaporated immediately. This was not how I had pictured seeing him again. 'Stop doing Rituals'. I felt like he was destroying part of the bond we had always felt: the two of us against the rest of this sometimes so strange world. Severus knew that there were places where other rules applied and other kinds of magic existed. And now he wanted me to forget about it? It was one of the first times I felt extremely lonely.  
  
But then a scream jerked me out of my musings. A Hufflepuff (I think her name was Bones, but I don't know for sure) had apparently lost control over her legs. They were dancing on their own accord, and she had no influence whatsoever on where they were going. She caused a lot of consternation: people were dashing out of her way and colliding as she kept spinning around the hall at top speed. I had tears in my eyes for laughter; it was such a silly sight!  
  
But almost immediately somebody yelled "Finite Incantatem!" and the girl stopped spinning.  
  
I saw that Dumbledore, McGonnagall and Severus had stood up. Dumbledore looked furious. His eyes were blazing so much that everybody fell quiet again.  
  
"I want it understood," he said, deadly calm, "that if something like this happens again, I will not only have to stop the ball, but will also see to it that the person or persons responsible suffers severe consequences."  
  
Nobody moved a muscle, but Dumbledore said nothing and sat down again. Hesitantly, the band resumed playing. Severus was staring at the three 'knights' again with what I knew was his 'I'm-very-angry-and-very-dangerous- indeed'-look. He walked towards the small group, all sitting at the same table, and began talking to the leader. I hadn't seen Severus this angry before, but the 'knight' didn't even flinch. He told Severus something that made him even angrier, because shortly after he turned around, nodded curtly at Dumbledore and walked out of the Hall.  
  
I saw him go with mixed feelings. A part of me wanted to run after him (when would I be able to see him again?), another part couldn't help appreciating what the man in the black mask had just done: make Severus back off. That was certainly impressive. His whole attitude was impressive, in a way. He had a very attracting kind of confidence.  
  
He seemed to notice I was studying him, because he turned around and nodded as if to greet me. I smiled back at him. It was a shame his mask covered so much of his face, because I couldn't read his expression, but he didn't turn back. I was plotting my next step when I saw somebody wave at me out of the corner of my eye. I turned and saw Pruedence and Hera beckoning me enthusiastically and looking exited. I stood up and went to join them. I had to pass the table were the three 'knights' were sitting and smiled at the leader again. "Excuse me," he called after me. I turned to him and saw he had stood up. He did a step towards me and took my hand.  
  
"I apologise if I have scared away your dinner partner. I normally don't intend to deprive ladies of their companions."  
  
"You needn't have worried," I said in a casual voice. "Our conversation had already ended." His eyes were all I could see through the mask. They made me all giddy. I hoped it didn't show.  
  
"May I ask you what your name is?"  
  
"You can call me Morgaine."  
  
"Morgaine." He pronounced it slowly and carefully. "Or maybe Morgan le Fay, as the Muggles call her? You certainly look like what they imagine to be a fairy."  
  
"I'd rather be seen as a priestess."  
  
"A priestess!" His eyes lit up. "It's always a great joy to meet people who still appreciate the Ancient Arts." I had expected a lot, but not this! "You do?" I said, startled.  
  
"Certainly. Can I offer you a drink?"  
  
But the waving had become more frantic still. "I'm sorry," I said, smiling and pointing at my friends, "but as you can see, I'm needed elsewhere."  
  
"No, I'm the one who owes you an apology. I was about to deprive you of your company yet again."  
  
"O, I really don't mind," I blurted out. He smiled to that as well. Then he took my hand again and bent down as if to kiss it. "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Morgaine."  
  
"The pleasure's all mine, mister."  
  
"We wear no names. We don't need distinctions. We are all united and equal in our service."  
  
Was he pulling my leg, I wondered? "Goodnight then, mr Smith."  
  
"Goodnight."  
  
I walked to the table quickly, where Pruedence and Eryn began the bombard me with questions.  
  
"Who's that bloke?"  
  
"Who was the other bloke?"  
  
"Why'd he leave?"  
  
"Why didn't say you had a date?"  
  
"What did he say?"  
  
"Narcissa, you wicked witch!" Pruedence said, grinning. "Two flirts in one evening!"  
  
"Well, actually," I replied, but Pruedence cut me short.  
  
"Don't be modest!"  
  
"So that's why the other ran off!" Eryn said. "I don't know if that was a smart move, saying you liked somebody else better, though."  
  
"I think it was brilliant!" Pruedence beamed. "You know, you were starting to worry me, Narcissa. Not dating for a whole year, and then that strange fixation on Malfoy. But you've obviously recovered."  
  
"Your second choice is much better," Hera commented. "The first one was positively creepy. Have you seen his hair?" We glanced at her and were silent for a moment. Then we burst out laughing.  
  
Merlin, how clueless they were! How I loved them for it! They made the night seem like one big adventure. All the sombre feelings I had vanished instantly.  
  
"So, back to business," Pruedence said. "Have you thought of a strategy for capturing Prince Charming yet?"  
  
"Strategy?"  
  
"I thought as much," Pruedence went on. "Life has been too easy for you for too long. This one doesn't seem like the type that already starts stammering when he can breathe the same air as you do. This one needs work."  
  
"He has offered me a drink already, if you hadn't lured me away-"  
  
"He would have lost interest," Eryn finished my sentence for me. "No, Pruedence is right. You have to play hard to get."  
  
"And that's why you need to go and dance now, before the ball is over," Pruedence said knowingly.  
  
"Who with? I can't just go and ask somebody!"  
  
"Why couldn't you?" Hera commented. "They won't dream of saying no!"  
  
"It's so not done, Hera, really. Girls don't ask."  
  
"That's exactly why you should," Eryn said. "It'll make you stand out. You can borrow my partner, if you want. Daniel!"  
  
They were right. I had been acting like a wallflower.  
  
"No need," I therefore said, scanning the Hall for a victim. I chose Terry Miller, a good looking Ravenclaw. I stood up and walked to him with a casual "Dance?"  
  
"Sure!" he said, causing his date to go into a tantrum, but we were much too busy to notice. He was a good dancer and I stayed with him for another two songs, with the occasional glance at the 'knight'. He was definitely looking!  
  
But look was all he did. After a while, the dancing became tiring and I rejoined my friends, leaving a highly confused Terry at the dance floor. All this time the three knights had remained seated. This confused me. Why go to a ball if you were not going to dance? Just to cause mayhem?  
  
Pruedence's suggestion had worked wonderfully, though. Tons of boys were asking me! I didn't recognise all of them, but at least three had asked me to the ball, they didn't seem discouraged at all. But I turned them away; they weren't the ones I was after. I would have my 'knight' any minute now, I was certain about that.  
  
However, at half past eleven the 'knight' still hadn't moved, something that surprised both me and my friends greatly. "Come on, you twit, ask her!" Pruedence grunted. "I don't what's the matter with him! This has never failed before!"  
  
"Well, I'm not going to sit around waiting for him," I announced, and smiled sweetly at a handsome boy two tables away, who turned out to be Stephen Rookwood.  
  
Stephen was actually very much fun to be with. I danced with him for the remainder of the night.  
  
Then, at ten to twelve, Dumbledore announced: "It is nearly time to reveal what has been hidden all evening! But before we do so, it is time for the last dance of the night. Special requests can be made to the band!"  
  
Suddenly the 'knights' moved. Two of them stood up, obviously wanting to go; the third one remained seated and made the other two sit down again. Then he seemed to give some kind of order. One of them stood up and walked towards the band. A request?  
  
For the last time, I returned to my table after having told Stephen to go and get some more drinks. Merlin, let him ask me now, I prayed. And then he stood up! My heart missed a beat, but he didn't come my way; instead, he walked to the bar.  
  
He was getting his drinks himself? Why, all of a sudden? He had ordered his friends around all evening!  
  
Then it dawned on me. He wouldn't ask me; for the first time in my life, I had to admit defeat. This annoyed me a lot. But at least I would have one last dance, I decided. Stephen wasn't even too bad a substitute.  
  
Two minutes later, though, it seemed as if that wasn't going to happen. Stephen was nowhere to be found. What was going on today, I wondered? It had been the strangest evening in years! I was walking towards the bar, hoping to find Stephen when I suddenly saw him, talking to the 'knight'! Stephen was gesticulating heavily, shaking his head, while the knight hardly moved. A moment later, just when the bandleader announced: "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards! The last dance of the night will be a tango!" I saw the two of them part. Stephen headed right for the Dungeons.  
  
"Stephen! Wait!" I called out, going after him. I had almost reached the stairs when I felt a hand on my shoulder. "What?!" I snapped, turning around and looked in a pair of startling grey eyes. "O, it's- it's you," I stammered.  
  
"Forgive me, but I couldn't leave without one dance," he said, his eyes twinkling. "I trust you are familiar with the tango?"  
  
"I thought you'd never ask."  
  
He led me to the dance floor as the intro started.  
  
It wasn't one of those slow, legato tango's, full of longing and melancholy; on the contrary: it was fiery, fast and staccato. There was a violin, a piano, a 'bajan', and violoncello; the rhythm was occasionally accentuated with percussion. He led but he didn't pull me close, he pushed me away. We were dancing at and arms length, around and around each other, as if this was some sort of primal dance, a fight: who would get the upper hand? The violin and the piano stirred us up, we became more and passionate and aggressive. Faster and faster we went.  
  
I forgot where I was, who I was, there was only one thing I was focused on: following him, his movements. Attracting, rejecting. One moment we were a mere inch apart, the next we would be as far apart as possible without having to let go. But we never broke eye contact. We held each other hostage.  
  
And then, suddenly, the music changed character. The sound of the violin became long drawn, full of desire. We stopped dead. Then we raised our hands and reached out for each other, slowly, tentatively. And when our fingers touched, I knew. A tingling sensation surged through my body, and I was lost, hopelessly lost in his gaze. It can't have been more than five seconds, but it might as well have been five years.  
  
As abruptly as it had the first time, the music changed back. At that precise moment, he grasped my hand and pulled me close. I was completely at his mercy. Tightly pressed to him, he swept me away. He whirled me around and around, until I had lost every sense of co-ordination. Faster, faster, more and more hectic the music became. I couldn't think. I only felt my pounding heart, his body, his breath on my face. When I feared my heart wouldn't take it any longer and would just explode, the violin uttered one last lament and the music ended with a sharp tone of the cymbal.  
  
It was the cheers that brought me back to reality. The whole Hall was clapping us, as if we had given some kind of performance. But I was still to dazed to take it all in. We let go of each other very unwillingly. I looked around and smiled shyly.  
  
Then we heard a clock strike twelve. "The moment has arrived!" Dumbledore said happily. "Take out your wands and remove your masks at the count of three!" At three we all waved our wands, thus removing our masks and wigs.  
  
What I saw froze the blood in my veins. Behind the black mask appeared the long, pale face of Lucius Malfoy. We were both too shocked to speak.  
  
"Peasant," I uttered finally.  
  
"Urchin," he whispered.  
  
Transfixed, we stared at each other. I didn't even dare to breathe.  
  
But then, he lunged forward, put an arm around my waist, pulled me close again and pressed his lips on mine. He kissed me fiercely, passionately and fast, pulled back, let go, turned around and left the Hall.  
  
When I saw him walk away, I knew that every second between now and the next time I would see him would be an unbearable eternity. 


	9. The man I married

Why do you look so sceptical, Draco? Don't you believe me? No, I _know_ it isn't what you're used to hearing. But what do you expect? You only heard the official version of the tale, and that is what we told at social gatherings. Nobody ever tells the truth at social gatherings! Great Merlin, next you'll be thinking Fudge is intelligent!  

No, don't go! I'm sorry, my boy. That was mean, forgive me. I suppose it must seem strange to you. What do you say? Your father isn't like that? O Draco, if you'd only known him a little better! That is exactly how he is! Or at least, was. He is very passionate.

Now, stop sneering at me, young man! Have you ever wondered where his outbreaks came from? How his anger could reach boiling point so easily? I didn't know why at first either. Now I do. And it frightens me. 

*

Of course I tried to fight it at first. Hoping that I could ever be with Lucius Malfoy, the heir of one of the mightiest and wealthiest families in Europe, not to mention my arch-enemy, was insane. The thought of loving him alone was an act of treason. I didn't know how the Malfoys thought about this feud, but even if that didn't play a part for them (something I severely doubted) they would never accept somebody from the gutter. And apart from that, I didn't even *like* this man.

But the all-consuming longing that had filled me told a different story altogether. I found myself searching the sky for an owl I knew that wouldn't come, found myself lingering around Dumbledore's office, hoping he would come through the door, found myself carrying the perfume bottle he had sent me as a special talisman, found myself speaking his name softly, just to relish the sound. 

But as I didn't hear from him, I became more and more depressed. The sweet euphoria I had felt turned to agony. I needed to see his face, smell him, feel him. I ached for him so much it felt like being burned on the inside. 

Two whole weeks went by without a sign of life. Then, on a Saturday, as we were about to go outside to watch a Quidditch match (Slytherin versus Gryffindor), Pruedence handed me a letter she had just received with a very puzzled expression.

"It's from my brother- for you."

Meet me at Greenhouse Three, it said, in a handwriting I didn't recognise. Yes, it was from your father, but I didn't suspect it at the time. I didn't know they knew each other, and had only a vague idea about how closely the Slytherin community was knit. So, when I went to the Greenhouse, I was completely overwhelmed when I saw your father there. 

He quickly pulled me behind the Greenhouse so nobody would see us. How I had fantasized about a meeting like this! In my dreams, I would embrace and kiss him and never let go. But the man that stood in front of me didn't resemble my knight of the Halloween Ball. No, this was the junior Governor that had visited Hogwarts once a week. Charming, but cold and aloof. 

"I needed to see you, Miss Redgrave." 

The formality felt like a slap in the face. I felt myself chill.

"So it seems," I brought out. 

"I fear that my behaviour of two weeks ago might have given rise to. hem. false assumptions on your part," he said, looking terribly strained for some reason. 

Have you ever felt your whole world collapse? I didn't want to hear the rest. I didn't want to hear him say what I already knew, that it had been a big mistake, that we could never be, and this was to be our last meeting. 

"I understand," I said roughly. I noticed a most peculiar feeling rise. My throat began to ache and I thought I would lose control over my voice. Only when my eyes began to burn I realised what was happening. Tears. Tears?  "I must go back," I choked, turning around.

"No, wait! Miss Redgrave!" 

"Oh, stop it! Stop it!" I spat at him. "What's suddenly wrong with 'urchin'? Why are you playing games, Malfoy?" He started at me, totally uncomprehending. To be quite frank, I didn't understand what was happening to me either. The words kept pouring out of my mouth. 

"I admit! You've won! Nice, isn't it, to be able to reject a Redgrave for a change?"

"You think I'm here to dump you?"

"Aren't you?" 

"Behind a Greenhouse, on a cold November afternoon? Merlin's beard, you really do not know much about sophisticated life, do you?" He didn't take notice of my angry response, but went on in a low whisper: "That's a pity- Narcissa."

The sound of my first name silenced me. I looked up and met his eyes. They weren't aloof and calculating anymore. There was something smouldering underneath their surface. 

"You must be cold," he said, taking off his cloak. He walked to me and draped it over my shoulders very slowly. The velvet brushed soft against my skin. As he bent over me to fasten the clasp he whispered lazily in my ear: "You are like a raw diamond, Narcissa Redgrave. With a little polishing, you could be magnificent."

I turned my head and smiled cheekily. "Is this an indecent proposal?"

He chuckled. "Some may think so, yes. My father certainly would."  

It was an awful time to bring up his dad. The spell was immediately broken. "What's he got to do with it?" I asked, alarmed. 

"Too much, I'm afraid," he sighed, suddenly looking a bit worried. "My father doesn't consider you to be suitable company for me."

"My father thinks the same about you," I sneered, trying to brake loose.

"Shhh," he said, holding me back. "My father is, as always, wrong. Never would a Redgrave have been more of an asset to our family. You are everything any Malfoy could ever want. Every aspect of your being represents your noble bloodline. Your cheek line," he whispered, tracing the outline of my face with his finger, at "your pose," his hand was travelling down my spine, and at "and your beautiful face," he touched my mouth with his finger. 

This was even more electrifying than dancing with him two weeks ago. But I couldn't help noticing that he had left something out.

"That, and my astonishing intelligence," I remarked dryly.

He laughed joyfully. _"Tu es ravissante, ma gamine," _he said, before burying his face in my neck. I just stood there and let myself be held. 

When he started talking again, his voice had gotten an urgent undertone. 

"I couldn't get you out of my mind," he whispered. "I knew I had messed up completely, and that my father would never approve, but I still had to see you. When my father got wind of it the next morning he went berserk." He turned me around to face him. "He threatened to disown me if I ever saw you again. But his time is running short and we both know it. In a few years' time, I will take my fathers place. Then I can offer you the world, Narcissa. Will you wait for me until then?" 

"But what if my father finds out?"

"You mustn't tell him. Nobody is to know it. We can see each other secretly; I have a few friends who can cover for me." He looked at me almost pleadingly now. "You deserve somebody better than all those school boys. I will do you justice." 

I looked at him, now so much more human than I had ever seen him before, and decided to play one last trick on him, for old times' sake.

"I would wait for you if there weren't this one little problem," I grinned.

"What problem?" he said, startled and even a little frightened.

"You didn't do me justice with that first kiss."

He grinned, too, as we put our arms around each other and kissed slowly and tenderly.

Then we heard a roar at the Quidditch pitch and I hurried up to the castle, still wearing his cloak. 

*

Will you stop looking so disgusted? I have been young as well! 

I know it must be a little embarrassing to hear about your parent's love life, but I'm doing this for a reason. I want you to meet the man I married.


	10. Bonding

Bonding

Those times seem centuries ago; and yet more tangible than yesterday. It's proven hard to keep hold of them. For a long time I thought things were lost between us, the differences too great, but now, I'm not so certain anymore. For some of it has come back, some of the wonder of our first times together. The wonder of that one week, right after Christmas 1977, which we spent in the small family castle in the Highlands.

O, I get all dreamy when I think about it now… It was all so _perfect_. The days were cold and bright, the nights full of snow…  The first night, he had made the house elves prepare an elaborate dinner, and he lavished gifts on me. He had bought me seven sets of dress robes, one for every day of the week, with matching jewellery. Later on, we Apparated to London; there he took me out to the most exquisite restaurants and theatres. He bought me the newest Comet to practice flying on. He bought me everything my heart could ever desire and more. 

You could very well say he bought me. That's what everyone else says, anyway. You think so too, don't you? I've heard you say something similar at a party, talking to Marcus Flint. You told Marcus that his father should buy his mother some diamonds to appease her after a row. "That's all they care about, women, jewellery," you said. I know you were being pompous, but it sounded so cynical, it shocked me… I swear to you, it wasn't just the money! I could have tried to marry into any wealthy family; there might have been a few willing to overlook my background. And your father could have gotten anyone.

No, I'm not foolish enough to think it was just love from his side, either. I had something that he needed, as well. I didn't know what it was, then, but I expected there to be something more profound than the desire to get into my knickers. 

But for the last time, Draco, I assure you, there was a real bond between me and your father, a bond that wouldn't have been there if your father hadn't shown another side of himself. And I think you have rarely seen that side. There is a heavy load on his shoulders almost continually; he rarely gets the chance to relax. You know the strain of having to keep up appearances, we all do. But it's part of being Malfoys. However, we were completely alone there, and we did so many crazy things: we had snowball fights, he showed me the most spectacular Quidditch moves on his broom; we played his favourite childhood game, 'bludgering the elf', and the close second, 'Muggle pestering' (we went near a Muggle town and bewitched some of their artefacts from a distance, the looks on their faces were priceless). But mostly, we would just lie in front of the large fire, feeding each other sips of wine and talking. 

I've so often thought about that week later on, asking myself if there had happened anything remotely disturbing, anything at all. If I had seen it coming, I would have reconsidered, I really would… But there wasn't anything, that flicker in his eyes, the anger, it wasn't there, I tell you, it wasn't there! Well, only when he talked about Muggles and Mudbloods, but there he was right, they _are _infuriating! 

"They're like lice," he would say, "you can squash one without a further thought, but when there are many of them, they overwhelm you." He was the first who really made it clear to me that they formed an actual threat. "They have forced us to retreat, to hide in the corners of our own world. The things we do not to be found out by Muggles! It's preposterous! And the worst thing is: they have started contaminating our blood as well. There were no Squibs in the old times!" 

Yes, he really opened my eyes in that respect. He made it clear we _had_ to do something about them, if only to prevent them from hurting us. The sooner, the better.  

However, for the first time in months, nothing happened. There wasn't a single attack in the month of December. When I ask people now, many tell me it was one of the best Christmases they ever had. They all assumed the attacks had finally ended and started to look forward again. 

But in January, hell broke loose. 

Rampaging Giants, soul-sucking dementors, vampires, trolls, they were all there suddenly, wreaking havoc. The Ministry didn't know what to do. There was chaos everywhere. 

But that's not what I remember best. What I connect with that first half year of the war are the owls. 

When you walked into the Great Hall in the morning, you could already feel the tension that hung in the air. Talking loudly was something of the past, now people just sat down and ate, heads down. Sometime a first year would risk a longing glance out of the window, or a comment about hoping to get a package from home; but this was severely disapproved of, and they soon learned to keep quiet, wait and cross their fingers like everybody else.  

As soon as we heard the sound of flapping wings, every head in the Hall turned to look at the owls. What we all feared to see where the black ones, carrying letters with black lining and the crest of the Ministry. When there were such owls- and there was an owl like that at least twice a week- all the eyes followed it to see who it would deliver to. But when the soft 'thud' that indicated a letter had been dropped off was heard, many of us averted our eyes. This was a sign for the Heads of House to collect the recipients and lead them out of the Great Hall, so they could open their letters in private. But often, people had already ripped their letters open and burst into tears. 

When they had gone, there always was a collective sigh of relief and an explosion of chattering. It hadn't happened to us- yet. 

After a few weeks it really began to show that Slytherin hardly ever 'got mail' as we used to say. And hence, all the cropped up jealousy against our House emerged from below surface. 

Everywhere we went, conversations stopped. Slytherins were attacked at every dark corner of the castle. Items got bewitched or stolen. House Points were being deducted for the merest offences. Even the Ghosts were being unfriendly. 

So what could we have done but stick closer together? We straightened our backs and walked with pride in our steps; ready to defend our Housemates against anyone. Ours were not the hunched backs and the pale faces. But it was a nerve wracking feeling just the same. 

Besides that, I was worried beyond my wits about your father. We still couldn't write in fear of letters being intercepted, so I heard nothing, for at least two months. So you can imagine the glorious relief that swept through me when I saw him again in a rather deserted part of the Dungeons one day. I clung to him for at least five minutes, smothering him with kisses. 

"Let go of me, you silly urchin," he finally said.

"No, you bloody peasant, I'm not letting you go away again."

"Fine. But then I'm not showing you what I brought." 

"Brought?"

He took a box out from under his robes. Inside was the silver necklace I often wear, formed like a serpent and with a black pearl for an eye. I was flabbergasted. 

"I won't be able to see you for the coming three months," he said, "but at the end of June my family traditionally holds a ball for all Slytherins entering Society that year. _All_ of Slytherin. Will you promise me to come and wear this?"

"Yes, yes, of course I will," I said, embracing him, but he pushed me away.

"Swear to me you'll come and _stay for the whole night_. Swear!"

"I solemnly swear that you will have to drag me out of your house after the ball."  At those words, the silver snake tilted its head and hissed softly.

"Good." He closed the box and gave it to me. 

"Lucius… is this…are you asking…?"

"Just be there." Then he embraced me once more. "I have to go. Don't disappoint me, _ma gamine_."

But I didn't want to let him go. "Please, Lucius, can't you take me? I'm fed up with worrying about you, and the tension in this place, it's killing me…"

"Just stop fretting then! I'm absolutely fine, I haven't been better in ages." He gave me a quick kiss and then turned around. 

"Lucius?" I called once more. "Don't you dare get hurt, you hear me? Because if you do, I'll kill you!"

He laughed, turned and disappeared once again.

I stroked the necklace, and the serpent hissed contentedly. I didn't even dare think of what it might mean, but warm feeling in my stomach that I felt when I looked at it made the last three months of my old life a lot less gloomy.  


	11. No questions asked

Reading the words of that last page again irritates me. I was a goose, an absolute goose! How I could ever think that your father would run away with me! You're very right to laugh at me. I thought I was brilliant, but I knew nothing of the world I was living in. I knew nothing of Slytherin, of the codes, the people, the way of life. I knew nothing of the war or of your father's obligations to our Dark Lord. I honestly thought that your father was just going to sweep me away, leaving everything behind. It didn't happen like that, of course. Not quite.

Finally the day had arrived. It was the end of June, in the first week of our summer holidays.  All of the Slytherin seventh years had been talking about the festivities at the Malfoys for weeks. It was _the_ event of the year. After a long conversation with Dumbledore, my father had given me permission to go, albeit unwillingly. He resented the fact that he, as a Ravenclaw, wouldn't be allowed to introduce me, as was custom. (A good thing too, the last thing I wanted was our fathers to come face to face.) Instead, Eryn's parents offered to introduce me on his behalf; and I went to stay with them for the week prior to the ball.  

They, too, were very excited; after all, this would be Eryn's official debut as well, and an excellent opportunity to meet a potential husband. 

Naturally, we had picked our dress robes with the utmost care. I was wearing a strapless dress of dark green velvet with a slightly pre-formed top that gave me a very well formed neckline. I'd pulled the hair out of my face with a shiny silver pin, so that it fell over my back and shoulders in a waterfall of perfect waves. My earrings were rectangular and silver too. On my neck, shining, magnificent, was the silver, snake shaped necklace, with one gleaming black pearl for an eye.

When I saw the Manor for the first time I was quite overwhelmed; I wasn't accustomed to this much splendour. I kept gazing open-mouthed around the Hall until Pruedence nudged me forcefully in the side, and I quickly followed her to the ballroom. The first thing I noticed when I came in was the variety of languages spoken: not only English and French, but also German, Russian and some other Eastern European tongues. Apparently, Durmstrang was also well represented. 

Claudius Malfoy was there, looking particularly smug; he was playing with his snake cane's head and talking to a man with an enormous moustache. Next to him was a woman I supposed to be Lucius' mother, looking utterly bored, but sophisticatedly so. Next to them was your father. He looked as handsome as ever in his black dress robes. His hair was tied back with a ribbon. And next to him- something I didn't dare to believe at first- was a pretty brunette in blue dress robes _clutching his arm._    

Dousing me in ice-water would have been a lot subtler. The way that girl looked would convince anyone that they were already married. 

I didn't know what to do. I wanted to slap him, turn that stupid girl into a pig, or at least destroy something, but that wasn't really an option. So I turned on my heels and stalked off…

"Ouch!" The snake had bitten me! To make it worse, the whole room was staring in my direction now. Lucius gave me an amused sneer. 

Completely embarrassed, I considered Apparating away, but Eryn took my arm and pulled me forwards. "Come, we have to introduce ourselves to the host."

"O no," I hissed at her.

"You'll have to, or do you want to make a bigger fool of yourself?"       

So I walked forward with her parents, who first introduced Eryn and than me to Claudius Malfoy, who was smirking horribly.

"Ah, yes… I've known her father quite well," he said, his grey eyes mocking me, "but he is not able to participate in Society anymore…Quite tragic." Eryn's parents exchanged strange looks.

"Charming robes you are wearing, dear," Mrs Malfoy said, looking at me intently.

"Thank you, madam," I said, rather surprised.

"You have met our son Lucius," Malfoy said curtly to Eryn's parents, ignoring me. "Ah, and there comes Klaus. Klaus, I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs. Zabini and their daughter. Mr. Zabini is a valued colleague of mine," he said to the man with the enormous moustache, who had just come back with a glass of wine. Turning to the Zabini's again, he said: "Herr von Scharfenberg is a very old friend of our family. And this charming young lady is his daughter Ute. She has recently graduated from Durmstrang." Another round of "Pleased to meet you" followed. The girl smiled at me arrogantly. 

I gave her my coldest glance and then stared at Lucius again, willing him to give me the slightest sign. But he only looked at me with the cool, denigrating air I knew from our first meeting.

I didn't understand it. Had it all been a lie? I had been nothing more than a toy after all? Was it all just a refined attempt to further humiliate the Redgraves? 

I would have liked to burst into tears, but that would have made my humiliation complete. To distract myself, I concentrated on the most painful Ritual I knew, and began to make preparations in my head. When I arrived home tonight, I would curse him senseless! As I imagined how exactly to torture him, the prickling feeling behind my eyes stopped immediately. I walked away, sat down in a corner and began planning. A human fingernail… some hangman's rope… a simple black candle… I looked at the dancing couples without seeing them, thinking about formula's, incantations and ingredients. 

  I don't know how long I have sat there, but I wasn't disturbed until Pruedence came to me.

"Are you alright? You're looking quite scary."

"O, I'm fine," I said, as I thought about what the optimum temperature was to roast human flesh again. After that, they left me alone. The only who seemed to take any notice of me was Mrs Malfoy. She kept glancing over in my direction with a strange smile on her face.

Suddenly the music stopped. Claudius Malfoy walked forward and touched a champagne glass with his cane. He waited until it was completely quiet and then spoke:

 "Dear friends! Like so many parents, we have been urging our son to make an important decision about his future; and as so many sons, he has done his very best to delay this as long as possible."

The people laughed.

My eyes sought Lucius's once again, but still, he didn't look at me. His face was completely blank now. The girl was clutching his arm more tightly than ever. 

"However, there comes a time that every young man must determine the future course of his life. And therefore, my dear Lucius, I ask you to share your delightful news with all of us, so that we can offer you our congratulations."

Everybody clapped, and Lucius walked forward. "Thank you, Father," he said coolly. 

"Indeed, it is an important decision I have been forced to make, a decision that has cost me much consideration and many sleepless nights." A few 'Aahhs' from old women in the audience were heard. "However, I have decided, and I most fervently hope that I will never have reason to regret such a heartfelt resolve." He cleared his throat.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is an honour to present you the person that will help me bear the responsibility of leading such a distinguished family as my own. She is of the noblest breading, education and purest bloodline, and she will be a great asset to our community."

That was when I'd heard enough. Biting necklace or not, I wasn't going to watch this. I stood up and hurried to the door. Behind me I heard a somewhat surprised ruffling go through the audience, but I ignored it. I was almost at the door when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

 I knew who it was before I had looked, but I didn't dare believe it. Shaking all over, I turned around.

"You'd sworn to stay!" he whispered. Then he turned around and once again addressed the audience, his face set, his eyes fixed on his father. "Ladies and gentlemen, witches and wizards: I present you Miss Narcissa Redgrave, heiress of the Redgrave family!" And slowly, defiantly, he bowed.

Bewildered, I curtsied. In complete silence, Lucius lead me to the middle of room. The waltz had just started when we heard an angry shriek: 

"_Du__ miese Schlampe!!"___

 The German girl had drawn her wand and set an angry flash of white light my way. I ducked, but Lucius was quicker.

"_Protego__!" _he yelled, making the curse bounce off. But the girl had already reached us and lunged for me, only to be pulled back by Lucius at the last minute. All around me was complete chaos. People were exclaiming: "Scandalous!" and "Unheard of!" and the German girl was shouting at me hysterically: 

_„Das ist mein Verlobter! Er ist meins!! Ich bring' dich um, hörst du, ich bring' dich um!"_

Both the fathers came running to us. Malfoy yelled at Lucius to let go of her immediately. Herr von Scharfenberg grabbed hold of his daughters arm and hissed: "Ute! _Untersteh__ dich!_"

But the girl went on shrieking, so he had to put a Silencing Charm on her. Then he turned to Malfoy, fumed: "I haff never bin zis insulted in my entire life! I vill not forget zis, Malfoy!" and stalked off, still restraining his daughter. 

"You. Boy. Outside._ Now!"_ Mr. Malfoy growled.

 "As you wish, Father," said Lucius, who had stayed remarkably calm during all of this. "Excuse us," he told the still scandalized crowd pleasantly, and followed his father. 

Mrs Malfoy, who had been watching with a highly amused look on her face, simply said: "Ladies, gentlemen, please, let this not spoil our fun. My husband and son will be back in a minute," gave a wave at the orchestra, which started playing so loudly talking became almost impossible, walked over to me and said:  "You'd better come with me for a second." I gladly followed. She led me to the 'ladies parlour'. 

 "Ah, that was brilliant, darling, absolutely brilliant," she started. "That _look _on your face, fabulous."

"Sorry?" 

"You can be honest with me; I know the two of you planned this all along." I must still have looked pretty surprised, because she said, "You're not telling me he _didn't _tell you? O great Merlin, how couldhe forget something that vital?" She stood up and began walking up and down, complaining: "I've told him over and over again, 'Lucius, you can't just do this in a whim,' but does he _listen_…"  

"Mrs Malfoy, could you please explain what is going on?" 

"You have just been engaged to my son, that's what's going on! O, there will be so much more to arrange! Do tell me you have at least made some _kind _of guest list…"

I started to stutter. "Engaged? But you… you wouldn't… I mean… you _approve_ of this?"

"There's nothing much I can do about it, everything has been done according to the Rules." Then she sighed at my still quite bewildered expression. "O, sit down, girl, I'll clear you up."  

Well, you know the Rules- they're sacrosanct, but also pretty vague. It turned out that the only clearly defined Rules about an acceptable Malfoy bride were that she had to be of pure blood, 'of acceptable appearance', and 'known' to the family. Furthermore, the marriage had to be announced publicly. That had all happened. The tricky part was another, general rule: _Thou shalt not dishonour Thy blood. _Just as vague- but effective. If the family honour was violated in any way, the Head of the family had free rein in setting a punishment- which could range from a mild rebuke to disownment to instant death.  

"Of course, killing is illegal nowadays," said Mrs. Malfoy. "But it wasn't when that Rule was written. That's why they didn't have to be precise about the marriage condition. No son would have even thought of disobeying his father's wishes with death hanging over his head. But times have changed."

"But what if Lucius is disowned?"

"That would be an option, of course. However, unlike the old times, Claudius has only one heir. If he disowns him, the family's position will be at stake. And at least three other families are dying to take over. He won't risk that. But still…" Mrs Malfoy bent over to me and started whispering. "It's incredible that Lucius has forsaken his father's support for you. He will have a very hard time establishing himself now, without any of the necessary contacts. Society won't take this lightly. They'll try everything to break you, every foul trick." 

I wasn't too afraid about that, but I still couldn't believe how she could take this shock so lightly.

When I asked her, she laughed heartily.

"Shock? My dear, who do you think bought those dress robes?" But then her face darkened.

"It was times to take matters in my own hands. Let him make his own decision for once. Even the Malfoy Heir is entitled to a little personal happiness, in my opinion."

I hastened to agree, but she cut me short. "It's not that simple, girl. If you don't watch out, you get lived by this family. Let my give you one advice: keep out of the Malfoy's business. It's best not to know too much." We were silent for a moment. Then she said: "Well, about next Thursday's wedding…"     

"_Next Thursday_?" I shrieked, jumping up. 

"Yes, that's why he should have told you," said Mrs Malfoy matter-of-factly. "Everything has already been arranged, but we will have to make some last-minute alterations."

I didn't listen to her. I couldn't marry in a week. My father knew nothing about any of it yet- It was going to be an absolute catastrophe. I left an astounded Mrs Malfoy in the parlour and ran outside, looking for Lucius. 

I heard somebody talking in the garden. I wanted to walk to them, but an angry voice stopped me.

"How dare you raise your wand at me!"

I peered around a corner and saw a rather disturbing sight: Lucius was pointing his wand directly at his father's throat, his face contorted in rage. Claudius was standing bolt upright, not moving an inch, and glared at his son with contempt.

"You'll take that back, father, or I'll give you a bit of your own medicine!"

"You wouldn't dare." There wasn't the merest hint of fear in his voice.

"You're mistaken," Lucius whispered, and suddenly a sick smile spread on his face. "And, for the record, I know all _three_ of the Unforgivables, _not _only Cruciatus."

Claudius still didn't show signs of concern. With pounding heart, not daring to breathe, I kept hiding.

"That's you all over, Lucius," Claudius whispered, with the same twisted smile on his face. "You couldn't be subtle to save your life." Lucius lowered his wand a little in surprise.

"Why didn't you just make her your mistress?" Claudius went on. "Why put your position in jeopardy? How do you want to repair the damage a marriage with that sewer rat will do you?"

At the words _sewer rat _a flash of light erupted from Lucius' wand and grazed Claudius cheek. He stumbled and fell, but Lucius dragged him back up. "I don't _need_ you anymore, I don't _need_ your beloved Society. I have a new leader now, a great master. He'll make you pay. He will lead us into a new glorious era, and you and all your petty business partners will be grovelling at his feet!"

"Like you are now, no doubt," Claudius spat at him. He freed himself from his sons grip and stood up. "You never had any pride. I was wrong before, Lucius. You made an excellent decision. You don't deserve any better." Then he walked off.

I still hate Claudius Malfoy for what he said that night. Sewer rat. Those words were deadlier than any wand. I had never felt so humiliated, so insecure before. 

He seemed to have had the same effect on your father. Lucius just stood there, his wand uselessly at his side. When I was sure Claudius was out of sight, I appeared and called his name. He seemed shocked to see me.

"Have you been eavesdropping?!" he yelled at me, "have you, Narcissa?"

"No," I lied, backing away a little. "I just came out. We need to talk."

"Not now," he barked. "They'll be asking for us."

"Lucius…" It was all I could say. I hated how feeble my voice sounded, and I knew he wouldn't listen to it. He didn't. He just took my hand and pulled me with him. 

I realised this was the moment I had to stop him, because the minute I would walk inside that room again, things would be out of my control. Yes, I knew it. And let it happen.

What can I say? He had never yelled at me before. I felt weak. I felt overwhelmed. And technically, this was what I had wanted, wasn't it? This was the best day of my life, wasn't it? That's what I said to myself when he led me in to finish our waltz. However, as we danced, and were showered with congratulations afterwards, as we waved the last guests goodbye, as Mrs Malfoy ushered me to one of the many Guest Rooms ("Of course you're staying here now, dear"), as Lucius crept in and even as I finally fell asleep in his arms, one thought kept flashing through my head:

_He never asked he never asked he never asked._         

(Author's note: I just felt like including a few German bits. If you can't read it, just think about what you'd say in a situation like that, and you're probably right! Some of it is very, _very_mild language.)


	12. On the threshold

I had a row with your father last night. One of those screaming arguments you used to hate so much. It was liberating, in a way- the house has gotten so quiet and I hardly ever speak to anyone anymore. For a few moments, it gave me a sense of normality I hadn't known since you w we last saw each other. Your father wants me to go out again, 'participate in Society', as he puts it, and I've told him a few times I wouldn't. He wanted me to go to a tea party at the Goyle's. Can you believe it? We're at war and he wants me to go to a bloody tea party! I told him that was one of the most outrageous things I'd ever heard and I wasn't even considering it. Then he finally lost his temper. It was reassuring to see him annoyed, especially after that queer thoughtfulness of the last few days. Honestly, I couldn't fathom his behaviour at all, and that made me very jumpy. At least fights are predictable.

Not this one, though. After only two minutes of screaming he slumped in a chair, defeated. He didn't even storm out to manhandle one of the kitchen elves. He just sat there, head in his hands. It turned out _he_ didn't want me to go to that party, but he was acting on our Lords orders. His Lordship wants all things to go on normally, in spite of the war.

Now, defying the Dark Lord is never a wise thing, but to be honest, Draco, I don't think I can manage. I'm feeling very light headed of late, and I'm having these strange black outs- one moment, I'm sitting at my desk, writing, the next, I'm lying on the floor, with Libby tugging at me, begging me to wake up. Imagine that happening over a nice cup of tea! Not that the women wouldn't love it, jealous bunch of doxies, but I really can't start fainting all over the place.

Naturally, I haven't told your father. He frets enough as it is, and he isn't taking his meetings very well. I suspect him to have to endure at least one Cruciatus every time he reports. Still, he _chose_ this, at a time when there still were choices to be made. Having met the Dark Lord, I can't see how.

Yes, I have met him, though only once. You describe him as "radiating with magic", and I have to agree with you on that, but the kind of magic he was radiating- searing heat, combined with deadly cold, an intense, destructive, consuming kind of magic- frightened me to my very bones. You haven't got the faintest clue how deep he has sunk into the darkest, most ancient arts. Some forms of ancient magic are too strong, too brutal, for any human to survive it unscathed. He had survived it, which to me shows that there can't be much humanity left in him. I knew it, I _felt _it, the moment I dropped to my knees before him.

It was the day after the ball. Your father had woken me at the crack of dawn, dressed in his Death Eater robes. "Hurry, my love," he'd whispered, covering my mouth with his hand to prevent me from screaming, "dress in your finest, and come with me." He pointed at my trunk, which had been brought to the Guest Room. I wanted to pick some day clothes, but he took a set of black dress robes. "Meet me downstairs in twenty minutes," he said after having rung for a House Elf, and left (for his shot of firewhiskey, I presume). I remember feeling rather awkward in my dress robes, so inappropriate for the time of day.

And I can't stop wondering: was this how it happened to you too? Did you too Apparate blindfolded to a place you didn't know? Were you too forced to kneel and kiss the hem of His robes? Weren't you terrified too?

I kept staring at the ground since I didn't dare look up. Lucius was kneeling beside me, but he could have been anyone, as his face was hidden by his mask, reducing him to a nameless creature. He didn't look at me- he was gazing at the Dark Lord and speaking as I had never heard him speak before: his voice was full of genuine admiration and deference as he introduced me to Him.

And then the Dark Lord lifted my chin with a long, bony finger, and forced me to look into his pitiless eyes.

"Yes, she is a beauty, Lucius. I might even want her for myself." Every drop of my blood froze. At my side, Lucius uttered a horrified but weak "My Lord…" The Dark Lord laughed a cold, hollow laugh.

"Don't fear, my pet," he said to me, "I won't deprive one of my most valued Death Eaters of his lovely little bride to be, certainly not while you could ensure me his loyalty."

"Thank you, my Lord," whimpered Lucius next to me, "thank you…" At the same moment, the Dark Lord waved his hand curtly: immediately one of the Death Eaters left the circle and came back with a heavy, leather bound black book. The Dark Lord opened it and held it out to me. "Take this as my wedding gift," He said, with a malicious smile on His lips.

On the pages was a collection of Rituals that involved so much human torturing I could barely look at it, especially since there where very detailed pictured in it that illustrated every step, not unlike a macabre cooking manual. This didn't mean the Rituals themselves were easy. In fact, they where immensely complex, and would pose a great challenge. But still, the amount of atrocities was too large for me to stomach, so I instinctively pushed the book away. Lucius looked highly alarmed and started to apologise, but the Dark Lord only laughed.

"Why so sensitive? Isn't this what you have been doing all your life?" At the moment he said it, I realised he was right. I had been harming all my life. And suddenly, I hated myself for it.

"Take it, girl," His Lordship said, putting the book back into my hands, "you'll want to use it soon enough, Lucius will make sure of that…"

I don't think either of us knew what He meant at the moment. I didn't care, I just wanted to get out of there. So I took the book and Lucius whispered: "You are most generous, Master," and finally we where allowed to stand up. Still bowing Lucius left the circle and took me with him.

In retrospect, I know this was a very clever move of the Dark Lord. He knew I would use the book, and by doing so, I would bind myself to him, even if he didn't make me a Death Eater. Usually, he preferred spouses to be kept out of it all, although there are always a few exceptions. But the use of this Dark Magic would make me unacceptable to his enemies, official Death Eater or not. And it would change me…

I do not flinch at the contents of the book anymore. I have no qualms in using it. For many years, I thought of it as a great blessing. But now I sometimes wish I had never touched it. It has poisoned me, and I didn't realise it until it was too late.

When you where eight, during a period in which your father was being unreasonably harsh, I tried to perform a Protection Ritual for you. It had looked simple enough, in fact, it had looked ridiculously easy. But it required peace of mind, complete relaxation, and, above all, trust.

I couldn't do it.

Maybe I anticipated something like that, cowering at the feet of the Dark Lord, maybe I was just frightened beyond my wits, but at that moment I decided I didn't want to go through with it. Everything about the Malfoy family I had loved and wanted, I suddenly saw in a new and eerie light. When we had headed back, for example, the only thing Lucius said to me was "Change for breakfast." That was all. No explanation. As I sat at the enormous dinner table, feeling increasingly shabby in my everyday clothes, everything in the house seemed hostile.

Silence was draped over us like a stifling blanket.

"I need to go."

Without realising I had spoken those words out loud, because both Mrs. Malfoy and Lucius looked up, surprised. I explained about still having to tell my father the news, and Mrs. Malfoy scolded Lucius once again about his 'abysmal planning'. She immediately made a House Elf get my trunk. Lucius walked me to the door. He tried to embrace me as he usually did, but I turned away.

"Very well," he said, took my hand and kissed it. "Come back soon, _ma gamine_." There was a distinct 'or else' in his voice.

"I will," I said, but I couldn't look at him.

When I arrived home, I finally broke down. I flung myself at my father and started sobbing like a desperate little girl.

I suppose my father was shocked. He hadn't seen me like this in years, after all. Whatever the reason, his body was suddenly racked by a coughing fit- of the kind I knew only too well.

I immediately stopped crying and led him to the sofa.

"How long?" I asked him, after the coughs had died away. "Be honest, dad!"

"October."

"Why didn't you tell me? We've got to get you a Healer, daddy, you've got to go to St. Mungo's!"

"It's no use, Cissa dear. I've seen many Healers. There's nothing they can do unless I get out of this wretched place."

I looked around the tiny house, with the stained walls, the warped door, and the thin layer of dust and filth that was impossible to get rid of, and felt utterly hopeless. "This shouldn't be allowed," I sighed.

"Every society needs some place to dump its Squibs, criminals and failures," my father said resignedly.

"You are no failure. Mum was no failure! The Ministry can't tolerate this- they must offer some support-"

"I had to fight hard for your Grant," said my father. "Apart from that, I'm no beggar." He sat up straight. "The Ministry was, and still is, getting more corrupt by the day. I wanted nothing to do with that."

"Has no one ever wanted to help you? Not even when mum was ill?"

"Redgraves do not beg, Narcissa."  
I remember marvelling at the foolish stubbornness of my parents. But I also felt awful. I had been to busy being in love to waste so much of a thought at my father, who clearly was severely ill.

The next two days I spent caring for him. He tried the worm the cause of my earlier distress out of me, asking me about the ball, but I managed to evade questions as usual. My father was too weak anyway. He seemed to have waited for me to come home and care for him before giving in to his illness, but now he had, he'd stopped fighting altogether.

The situation was worse than I'd ever imagined. In Knockturn Alley anarchism ruled. I got a lot of duelling training only walking down the street. What was worse, there wasn't a Galleon in the house, and Gringotts wanted money. There where Goblins at the door twice, and I had to sell one of my sets of jewellery to pay them back.

Well, that was enough to reconsider my situation. I had no illusions about getting a job. I was skilled in very obscure subjects for which the demand was traditionally very low. My background spoke against me. Besides, I feared Lucius' reaction when I left him…

Was it really that bad that Lucius was a 'Death Eater', whatever that was? I had surely overreacted. This Dark Lord might be terrible, but Knockturn Alley was no less terrible. And Lucius had promised me everything I had ever wanted. Why throw that away because I was a little scared? The fear of losing my dad was much greater…

So at the end of the second day, after I had brought my father his dinner (I _hated _cooking, wouldn't it be nice to have a House Elf?) I knelt down at his bedside and said:

"Dad, I have good news. This time next week, you'll be in your own clean house, with a warm bed, thick rugs, plenty of food, maybe even caviar…"

"You've found a job!" my father rejoiced.

I ignored that. "You'll have everything you ever wanted, daddy, a house in the country, you'll be able to travel again, you'll get healthy, you can get yourself one of those Nimbuses, the best robes…"

"You're not getting _married_?" His face darkened. He knew that this ball had been a completely Slytherin affair. "You aren't, are you, Narcissa?"

"Yes, dad," I said. "He's a brilliant catch. One of the best families."

"If he's so good, why didn't you ask me?" Suddenly comprehension dawned on him. "It's not… _Who is it, Narcissa?!_"

I took a deep breath. "Lucius Malfoy."

My father sat rigid for a whole minute. Than he said: "How did he threaten you?"

"He did not threaten me."

"Of course he threatened you!" my father said. He looked quite frightening now. "Don't you protect him!"

"I don't!" I said. "He's never done anything to me! He has given me loads of gifts; he's been a real gentleman… He can get us out of here, dad! Don't you know what that means?"

"So you've sold yourself to him," he said, suddenly deadly calm. "Like a common prostitute."

"How dare you!" I exclaimed. "I _love _him! I'm dead happy he still wants an urchin like me!" After that we were silent for a few seconds. My father was looking at me as if he'd never seen me before.

"Who are you?" he finally said. "My daughter would never say that. My daughter would never do such a foolish and foul thing."

"Foolish?" I screamed, jumping up. "_Look_ at yourself, father! You're dying, just because of your and our family's pride! I'm not the one being foolish! I refuse to stay and rot here for the rest of my life because of some feud!"

"I have given up _everything _for our pride! It is all our line has left!" said my father. "I will not let you barter it away!"

"You can't stop me."

"Then you will cease to be my child."

That struck me dead. I could not believe it. But he seemed to have meant every word. So I went to my room, stuffed everything I had still kept hidden in my trunk and walked to the door. In the doorway I turned around to him one more time. Please, my eyes begged. Hold me back. Please!

"Get out of my sight."

I left Narcissa Redgrave in that doorway. I turned and walked away without a word, but she is still lingering on the threshold, staring at her father.

He died soon after. He did not want me at his funeral.

(Author's note: Thanks for your reviews, many thanks to fizzstix and OutofAzkaban for always making my day and staying with me for all this time. I didn't know that the story would get so complex that I would need 12 chapters to bring L and N together! But I've managed now, I guess!)


	13. Succession

I've finally convinced the girls to leave me be, thank Merlin. They have been here for a whole day. Especially Eryn was sick with worry. I gave her quite a fright. Apparently, she found me on the bathroom floor. I went there just because I was feeling dizzy and again I passed out. I don't remember, but it can't have been a pretty sight.

My boy, I'm getting worried... They told me I have been gone for two whole days, and when I finally woke up, I had a high fever. They had to pour three Healing Potions into me to make it stop. And those were the ones I had brewed myself, they far outstrip Ministry regulations.

I am writing in bed now, I just can't make it to my desk, so please excuse my abominable handwriting.

I haven't seen your father in a while. The girls tell me he has been here every free minute, but the Dark Lord demands his presence almost continually now. The fighting has not really started yet, as far as I know. The Ministry still denies that He has risen again. You needn't worry about him, though, when the real fighting starts, he won't be put in danger that easily.

But it concerns me very little, to tell you the truth. It is nothing compared to the first two years of our marriage, when the Dark Lord was truly at the height of His power. As now, your father was almost never there, but I was very involved as well. It didn't take me long to open that wedding gift... It tortures me to know how much time I spent doing one Ritual after the other, instead of being with you... Yet, Draco, if it hadn't been for those Rituals, I wouldn't have had you...

Have you ever wondered why you are an only child? As you know, pureblooded families are supposed to have many children, to make sure the superior bloodlines don't die out. You can say what you want about the Weasley family, but they have done their duty in that respect. Ironic, isn't it? That family of blood traitors reproducing like there's nothing to it and most of the Slytherin families struggling to bring so much as three children into the world? I envy that Weasley woman... if I had been like her, I wouldn't have had so many marriage problems so soon! And that, while the wedding was one of the best ever seen in Slytherin...

_No_, don't fear, I won't bore you with the wedding _again..._Let me just say, in spite of all, I was truly happy. And knowing what had just happened, that is saying a lot.

It was all thanks to your grandmother. She made me feel very welcome. However, sometimes I sensed a feeling of bitterness in her. She left for Saint Tropez again directly after the wedding, but she helped me get through the last two days before. Merlin, if it hadn't been for her... I felt so shocked, so empty when I arrived at the Manor again. It was she who pulled me through.

Mind you, I still was not completely sure if I was doing the right thing. To make it worse, I hardly saw Lucius. He would have dinner with us, but that was a very strained affair: Mr. Malfoy did everything to make me uncomfortable, and that infuriated him as well as me. Mr. Malfoy also made sure we had no time between the two of us.

But I got a sign. Your grandmother and I made Madam Malkin come over to do the fitting. She had brought many beautiful creations with her, but your grandmother was even pickier than I was. She didn't even want the grotesquely overpriced gowns from Italy that had taken my breath away. When we had gone through every single dress, and both me and Madam Malkin were close to tears, she suddenly pointed at a gown somewhere half hidden behind the bridesmaid dresses. "That one," she said, in a tone that allowed no arguing.

Madam Malkin tried to, though. "That's no use. It won't fit. I don't even know how it got there." As a House Elf gave it to her, she continued: "It's cursed! It is beautiful, but it fits nobody."

"Is your hearing impaired, Malkin?" Mrs. Malfoy snarled.

Reluctantly, Madam Malkin gave the dress to me.

Immediately after I had pulled the gown over my head, I felt tenderness in every stitch, love in every layer of fabric. It felt like somebody had wrapped me in his arms. And I saw a thin, worn hand, working on a white piece of cloth. A piece of cloth I wasn't allowed to see, in spite of my begging and whining.

_Mum._

"Of course," said Madam Malkin, gazing at me in astonishment, "you are Diana's girl..."

It was then the cold that had surrounded me since my arrival at the Manor vanished. I couldn't speak.

Mrs. Malfoy spoke for me. "Perfect," she said. "A fairytale princess."

Call me silly, but after that, nothing could convince me that this marriage wasn't meant to be, not even Severus' owl. It was scribbled hastily. First he told me he was in Lithuania and that he'd stay there for a month, and then he basically began a rant, asking me why on earth I had come back, told me that leaving had been the right thing to do, that I still could, and again warned me for Lucius' ties with the Dark Lord. But for the first time, I tossed an owl by Severus aside and didn't wonder about how he knew of my departure in the first place. (I later learned that your father had told him and that he and Severus were both there when I was introduced to the Dark Lord. Severus had been quite shocked to see me.)

Then the wedding day came. Both the fathers were mercifully absent, but we did not care about that. There were no bride or groom's sides, because mine would have been empty except for the girls (and, all right, all of Slytherin still in school, but what did I have to do with schoolchildren?)

I thought I was doing perfectly well, but when I look at the photos now, I know Lucius had to smooth over more than one _faux pas_ of mine. In my defence, in Ravenclaw or Beaxbatons circles I would have done better, but Slytherin and Durmstrang are an entirely different subject. That became a major problem after the wedding. But not _the_ major problem.

You were.

Directly after the wedding Lucius took me to his house: he owned a charming little castle near the Manor. He didn't consider it to be sufficient (to his great chagrin the castle didn't come with House Elves, so he had to employ Squibs), but I loved it the moment I saw it and I spent a great amount of time redecorating it during our first two weeks of married life.

That's right, we didn't go on honeymoon: Lucius had to work and though the Ministry had given him time off, the Dark Lord hadn't. But we made up for that at night... No, make that every free moment...

Draco, I'm sorry, but you said you wanted the truth, and this is it. And I'm only telling you this because what happened near the end of the second month. Your father seemed to have been brooding on something for a week and one morning, he suddenly said:

"Tell me, darling, are we making any progress?"

It took me a moment to realise that he was staring at midriff quite intently.

"What, you want to know if I'm pregnant?"

He sighed. "Please, Narcissa, you needn't be so blunt."

I was quite taken aback. "No, I'm not pregnant yet, thank Merlin."

"That is nothing to be thankful about."

"It is, actually! I want to spend a little time with you. Just with you," I whispered in his ear.

"Narcissa, you silly girl," he said. "One has nothing to do with the other. What, do you think, are House Elves and nannies for?"

"I am too young to be a mother. We've got plenty of time to have children."

"You don't understand," he sighed. "Nobody will take me seriously if I don't produce an heir. I can't move to the Manor, I won't get a promotion, and I certainly won't be able to become head of the family. Those are the Rules, Narcissa, whether you like it or not."

Those Rules again. I was already getting sick of them.

"What does that matter now? There is a war going on!"

"That makes it all the more important to insure the continuity of our line! Especially since something _might_ happen..."

"Don't say that!"

"Narcissa, I once promised you the world after I took my father's place. So please, _ma gamine_, help me take it."

This little conversation marked a period in my life I don't want to think about much. Nothing, not even the worries about your father (Every time he didn't come home at night I was sure he had died) or trying to survive in the snake pit that called itself "Slytherin Society", measured up to the stress caused by that one little word uttered at the end of each month:

"And?"

"No."

This ate at me. I felt the stress was peeling away protective layers I had built around myself, layers I didn't even know I'd had before they'd started to vanish. Every month I felt frailer. Every month the anger in his eyes grew. In November, he burst.

"For Merlin's sake, Narcissa, _do _something about it!"

He was standing at the fireplace, still in his torn Death Eater robes, his face covered in smudges of blood from which I didn't know whether they were his or somebody else's, looking quite disturbing, to say the least.

"Lucius, I can'tjust get pregnant out of sheer _will_!"

"Why not?" he shouted, "You're not even twenty yet! You should be as fertile as a rabbit!"

A real blow couldn't have hurt me more. For a moment, I felt dazed. But almost immediately, the hurt was replaced by white hot rage.

"Shut up!" I yelled at him, "Have you ever thought that it might be you?"

"Of course not," he said. "I have been checked as early as the age of fourteen."

This knocked the air out of me again. I slumped into a chair.

Lucius' expression changed. "Sorry, love..." he whispered, walking to me and reaching out.

"Don't _touch _me!"

Immediately, he clamped his hands around my shoulders, his eyes as hard as steel. "Have you any idea what I have risked for you, a filthy little urchin? Because of you, I'm the laughing stock of my fellow Death Eaters, my father is gloating and we are still living in this pathetic excuse for a house! You'd better make this work, Narcissa, because I'm not waiting any longer!"

"And you'd better let go of me now if you don't want to find one of those poisons you're so fond of in your firewhiskey tomorrow," I spat at him.

But of course I went to St. Mungo's right away. And when I say the look on the Healer's face a few weeks later, I immediately understood.

"I am very sorry, Mrs. Malfoy."

At that moment, I expected to break down. I was preparing myself for it, for wasn't this the worst imaginable news? But instead, a voice in the back of my head took over. _'Ice,' _it sang. Just that. It was a soothing mantra. _'Ice, ice, ice.'_And immediately, the familiar feeling of inviolability I had known since my tenth year filled me.

"Why?" My voice was steady and calm.

"It appears that you have repeatedly been exposed to magically contaminated surroundings," he said. "It is more widely known as the 'slum syndrome'. This is what happens when an uncontrolled amount of magical toxins fills the air and invades the system... You have an unusual amount of antibodies against it in your blood."

"But I feel perfectly fine."

"Mrs. Malfoy," the Healer said earnestly, "it is astounding that you are still in generally good health. This is undoubtedly due to the fact that the exposure to the toxins has decreased greatly over recent years. But still, damage has been done. Your ovaries haven't developed as they should. You will never be able to reproduce."

"And that's it?" I said, loosing some of my calm, "man, we are wizards! We are not bound to the usual limitations of biology! There must be something you can do, however expensive the treatment."

"There is no treatment, Mrs. Malfoy," he said with an air of finality about him. "You can of course ask for a second opinion, but they will tell you the same: we can no more make you conceive than cure a werewolf."

"I think I haven't been clear enough. I want you to help me, _whatever the cost_."

"I am sorry," he said gently. "There is no legal way I can help you."

"No _legal _way?" I asked slyly. "You mean there _is_ an illegal way?"

The Healer suddenly looked as if he'd been caught in the act. "I can give you various addresses of adoption agencies," he said quickly, "many wizard children are sadly still trapped in Muggle orphanages..."

"No, thank you," I said. "You have been a great help."

I searched all of my books on Dark Magic three times before I even considered looking in at the book the Dark Lord had given me. Even when I had found the magic I needed in there, I searched my books another time, but to no avail. There was one way it could be done, and one way only. But it was magic so Dark, I needed three skilled wizards to do it and I thought even your father would refuse to participate. But I had no choice. So on another stormy November night I finally told him.

"Lucius, I could have a child..."

"Then why do you look so downcast?"

"You will have to sacrifice something..." I stuttered.

"Sacrifice what, Narcissa?"

"Darling," I said softly, "It is the _Vita pro Vita _Ritual. In order to create a life, the Ritual demands a life in return. If I am to have your son, we would require the life of another man... Somebody of your line..."

It took a moment for this news to sink in, but then his eyes became a feverish glow.

"Consider it done."

But the third person wasn't as easy to convince.

"Absolutely not!" Severus hissed when I showed him the Ritual. "The _Vita pro Vita _Ritual... Have you lost it completely?"

"Why? Because it involves murder? Since when do you have a problem with that?"

"It's not that," he said, annoyed. "This Ritual is one of the most obscure, the most dangerous, the most ancient in existence! You know that, bloody hell!"

"Severus, stop overreacting. I understand this Ritual perfectly well."

Suddenly he looked right through me. "It's him, isn't it? He wants you to do this."

"No-"

"Leave him, princess, while you still can."

"What?!"

"He shouldn't be asking this of you. And besides, you two don't match! He is a better one, while you..."

"Speak for yourself, will you! You may never participate in Society-"

"It's not about the bloody Society! This is about power! You, as a Redgrave, have a power he will never possess, and he wants to use it!"

"Severus, don't be silly. He has far more power than I have."

"Yet, he hasn't got inkling about wandless magic. It isn't in his blood. You have to be of ancient decent to understand it, and he isn't. Don't you understand how much danger that adds to the whole thing? Anything could go wrong. And even if it does work: we don't know what the side effects will be. These Rituals always demand a price. I'm not risking that."

His words hung in the air for a long time before I spoke again.

"Severus, I'm truly sorry about it, but if you won't cooperate, I will have to force you."

He laughed disbelievingly. "You couldn't."

"You underestimate me. You see, Severus, dear, I am not blind. I have known for a long time that you are in contact with Dumbledore."

"How..."

"The Ball, love. Lucius has seen you there, too. You were on a little too friendly terms with our Headmaster. Besides, that it when your endless reforming preaches began. Quite tiring."

He didn't know what to say. I enjoyed this very much.

"I will swear on my life that I won't tell a soul if you help me, Severus. Not even torture would wring it out of me. But if you don't, I might just let something _slip_..."

He was silent for a moment. "Alright. Damn yourself if you must. But don't ask me anything again. Ever."

"I knew you would understand."

The rest is easily told. The preparation took quite some time, but finally, in February, we were ready to do it. Lucius lured his father away from the Manor and then he overpowered him. He put him under the Imperious Curse and led him to our garden. The night was completely moonless; the only light came from a blazing fire. Severus kept chanting the ancient words, I was dancing, forming complicated patterns on the ground and Lucius... Lucius bound his father to a stake, cut runes in his flesh and collected the blood that spilled from his wounds. Claudius writhed and screamed, because Lucius had lifted the Imperious Curse... Severus kept chanting louder, I danced on and looked at my old enemy, bleeding to death on the ground. When Lucius looked at me he smiled, and I smiled back. When I lifted a bowl filled with Claudius' blood I couldn't help thinking "Here's to you, daddy, finally I avenged our family" before putting it to my lips and drinking it. And as the last life left Claudius Malfoy's body I felt how I was filled with something strong and magical. It was too much for me. I fainted, but Lucius got me, and before everything got black I saw his eyes blazing with savage triumph. And above me, the Dark Mark was hovering.

I don't know how Lucius disposed of the body. I do know it was never found, even when Lucius paid a large team of Aurors to look for his father, who, he was sure, had become the victim of a Death Eater attack. I was confined to my bed. St. Mungo's confirmed that I was, indeed, pregnant, and marvelled about the miracle. But I was feeling too sick to rejoice. It was as if somebody was eating me from the inside, sucking the marrow out of my bones.

A small consolation was that Lucius was exactly how he had been during the Christmas Holidays. All the anger had gone. He satisfied my every whim and was very loving. It could have been so wonderful, if I hadn't been so dreadfully ill.

This was a very difficult time for the dynasty. The Head of the family was missing and the Heir could not take his place. We were living in the castle still, the Manor was deserted. This would continue until a new had arrived. Had Lucius not had the support of the Dark Lord, somebody might have taken over.

But on the 29th of November 1979, the new and rightful Heir to the Malfoy family, Draco Lucius Claudius Augustus Malfoy was born, and the House of Malfoy was safe once more.

Merlin knows how I survived your birth. It was nothing like I had imagined it to be. Defying custom, I went to St. Mungo's, and that probably saved me. I don't remember your actual birth, since I was severely drugged.

When I finally woke up, two days later, and a Trainee Healer brought you in, I thought you'd never live. You were so tiny and fragile. Still, even that one moment with you in my arms would have made it all worth it; my son, my boy. And when your father looked at you, he was so _proud. _And best of all, he would not leave me. You had bound him to me. Now I would never have to go back to the slums.

I stayed with you at the Hospital during the whole two months you were there. Lucius wasn't there much (Death Eater business), but the girls were. But finally, we went back to the little castle. After a bad start, you were thriving.

In June 1980, Claudius Malfoy was officially pronounced dead, and on our wedding anniversary, we moved to the Manor. The housewarming party was more like a coronation. We stood in the ballroom, Lucius and I, and I was carrying you. Again, the room was packed. Lucius mother stood before us. First, she officially declared you Heir to the Family; then, she took a ring, bearing the Malfoy crest, from her finger and gave it to me, and finally, she asked Lucius if he would always remember the obligations of the Malfoy name and fulfil them to the best of his abilities. After he had said yes, she gave him the horrible cane his father had always carried, as a symbol of his position. Lucius grabbed it hungrily. I could _see _the change in him, though I could not name it. It was as if he was basking in sheer power. This wasn't a walking cane: this was a sceptre. It made him two inches taller. Before this day, he was sometimes nervous and fidgety, but now he looked like nothing would ever make him loose his cool. I had never loved him more. From this day on, I thought that nothing would ever destroy the feeling of love and happiness that surrounded me.

Until Godric's Hollow was attacked.


	14. When the good years ended

I don't think I have to explain to you that the fall of the Dark Lord was an enormous, unexpected blow. The events followed each other up so quickly that it felt like being stuck in a hurricane. We didn't even have time for disbelief. We had to think of a plan, quickly. Your father had made enough victims to have been recognised by some, and therefore he could not slip into anonymity.

The decision we made at that moment has changed all three of our lives. Your father turned himself in, and got sent to Azkaban.

Of course, we hadn't expected him to go to Azkaban at all. He'd confessed. A few donations in the right places would do all that was necessary.

We were quite wrong, though. When we went to report to the Ministry, they had the Dementors at ready. Your father was whisked away to Azkaban without further ado to await trial. All because of Bartemius Crouch.

Crouch wasn't picky about who to have arrested. Many of your father's associates were charged, even those I knew to be spotless. Yet they didn't arrest me. And that meant your fathers fate was in my hands.

You may find this strange, but for me this marked the beginning of a period I call the 'good years'.

For two years, I had lived in Lucius' shadow. I wore what he liked me to wear, said what he wanted me to say, I went where he wanted me to go. I was his _gamine_, his little urchin, always in the background, waiting on him.

And I was profoundly sick of it.

Yet suddenly, with your father away, I felt like a flower finally allowed to blossom. His money became _mine, _his influence, (or what was left of it) _mine_.

I had a riot, I really did. I went to see all the important people Lucius had never wanted me to associate with; I flirted with the men, flattered the women, and if that didn't help, I cursed them to my hearts' content. The Princess of Knockturn Alley ruled again! I practically kept Mr. Borgin in business with all the objects I made somebody buy for me (sadly, I couldn't go there myself anymore, but one can't have everything in life now, can one?).

Don't think that I wasn't anxious; I was: what would happen if people cracked? What would Severus do? What would happen to us if your father was convicted? But these worries only spurred me to greater heights: like my mother, I now had a husband and a child to take care of.

However, a strange thing about this was that it wasn't always the name 'Malfoy' that opened doors. Just as often the name 'Redgrave' did the trick, especially outside of Slytherin. So often I have been in Ministry offices, with a harsh Auror in front of me whose tone completely changed when he heard my maiden name. "Redgrave?" he would say, "daughter of _Nicholas _Redgrave?" There would be some hushed whispering outdoors, and the Auror would come in, much friendlier: "How can I help you?" Sometimes, I even thought I saw a flicker of fear in his eyes.

I did not dwell on this, at the time. But it did make me feel good.

Crouch wouldn't budge, though. He didn't even want to receive me. He was the one who kept your father in Azkaban for two whole months, despite my efforts and that of others in high places.

What do you mean, 'that's got nothing to do with me'? It's got _everything _to do with you! Draco, I'm trying to explain – I had changed while your father was gone, and so had he. During the war, we had never experienced a peaceful married life together. Genocide and domestic bliss are strangely incompatible. And after Azkaban…Merlin, you just can't imagine what a state he was in. He -

That's not what you mean? Then what _do _you mean, precious?

I 'was never there'?

Darling, what do you _expect_? I _told _you, there was a war going on, I was evolved in killing people, for Merlin's sake. Have you _any _idea what these Rituals do to you? I couldn't have gone to play with you straight afterwards, having just murdered, it's exhausting, not to speak of the studying that's involved and… - and it wasn't that you were alone now, dearest. You had Janey, didn't you? The lovely Squib that's been in my service since I married? She loved you to bits, as I did. We used to have long conversations about you… But there were many times I would sit at your bedside while you were sleeping, and you would call for _her _if you'd dreamt badly, not for me, and I didn't think –

Oh, who am I trying to fool!

I'll be honest with you. You were on my mind, constantly. In fact, I did so many Rituals to try to forget you. Because every time I was with you, I felt inadequate. The world of childhood I remembered and the world you were in differed too much, I didn't know how to bridge the gap. The few times I read you a story I just couldn't stop thinking how wrong they were, how deceiving. I couldn't sing you a lullaby, promising you that everything would always be alright, when I knew it would not!

And what could I have told you?

I knew how to make a doll out of two sticks and piece of sewing thread, but I didn't understand all the magnificent toys I bought you. I could tell you how to keep clear of rats, I or how to forget a stomach that is aching with hunger, I could tell you what heaps of garbage it was worth scurrying in, and what were better to be avoided; I could even tell you the difference between a 'better one' who offered you a sweet because he pitied you, and one who offered you something to eat because he wanted to test a new kind of poison.

But what use was this to you, my darling, well fed, well clad little boy; you who lived in your dream world where everything was wonderful? It would have only given you nightmares. So I did what all my friends did, and left you with a nurse to accompany the girls at a shopping spree.

But it wasn't always like that, Draco. You must remember the times when Janey brought you to my quarters so you could fall asleep in my arms. You must remember how you would play in a corner of the room where I was studying the piano. It wasn't _often_, I know, but it did happen!

I loved that, you know. Around me, you were such a quiet, sweet child. Not around Janey, of course. I sometimes even heard your tantrums. It drove your father up the wall. Janey was terrified of him. I was too, sometimes, but since his anger wasn't directed at me, I didn't really want to acknowledge it. In a strange way, it amused me: you were both so similar when angry!

But with me, you were quiet and inquisitive. You could stare at me for hours, apparently fascinated. I was so happy when the time finally arrived when I could start teaching you.

I should not have done that. It was one of the cruellest things I could have done. If we had not become attached, the separation would not have been as painful.

Yet only then I noticed how much I had been missing. You might be small, but you were a person. A person I could help to learn and grow. It struck me that, for the first time in my life, I was doing something entirely constructive. The fulfilment that brought me I could never have imagined.

And I learned to love every inch of you. Your smile, the twinkle in your eyes, the way the hair fell in front of your face. My boy. Mine to love, mine to raise. Lucius had nothing to do with that.

You might wonder why I stress that. Well, I wasn't to keen on your father for a long time. Lucius had become quite impossible to live with. He was very bitter about the fact that I hadn't managed to get him out of Azkaban sooner. "Convenient, wasn't it? Having me locked away so you could spend all my money?" he would rant.

"If I hadn't spent that money to bribe everybody Crouch had not got his hands on yet you would still be in there," was my usual reply.

"I'm sure that's not all you did!" he'd say. "Many of those old buggers have more gold than they can ever spend, but their wives are dry old hags…"

"Don't be insufferable, Lucius!"

"Aha! You don't even deny it!"

"I am neither denying nor admitting anything." And on it would go, until one of us finally stomped out.

Looking back there were signs, many signs, of what was to come. Yet I did not recognise them as such. I only noticed that he slowly but steadily began to resemble his father more and more.

And the higher he climbed, the more he started to regard me with contempt.

Naturally, he wanted me to stay home. None of the wives of his friends or colleagues worked. Yet he also did not value the fact that I taught you. Not that _he _bothered, of course. Even before you were born he had told me that during the first seven years, a child was considered the sole responsibility of the mother. It was only after a son's seventh birthday that a father came into play. Basic skills – and those included the classics, French and even a little Astronomy – he considered beneath him. It had been like this for generations.

What he did not consider beneath him, though, was constantly belittling and berating me.

"Don't hold your fork that way." "You are not wearing those robes to the Ivanovs." "For Merlin's sake, learn to speak properly!"

We both new that our position had suffered almost irreparable damage, but the way we tried to get back into favour was entirely different. I knew that my different way of looking at things was considered amusing by many, but it drove Lucius mad.

Yet this wasn't the only thing. The few times he was in, he seemed irked that the household didn't evolve around him. I had learned to make appointments not caring whether or not he was there, and I didn't want him disturbing our lessons.

Many times I asked him if he wouldn't at least play with you on one of the few Sundays he was there, particularly because you were begging for it, but he insisted he preferred his quiet.

Indeed, he spent those Sundays grumbling in his study, a habit he had taken up since Azkaban. I knew, from the few nights he still came to my quarters, that he had violent nightmares. He wouldn't speak to me about them; instead, he rather drank half a decanter of Firewhiskey daily.

It had to go wrong some day. And I was glad it finally did. After that one incident he promised he would never hurt me again and I thought that was all there was to it. I was certain that he'd never do anything again, least of all to you and -

Yes, what _about_ that incident? That was all it was. An _incident_. Forget I even mentioned it!

No, I'm not going to tell you about it.

Because there are things that even you are not allowed to ask!

By Merlin, Draco, this is something it is better for you not to know. It is an ugly story, nobody is being heroic. Do you really want to see us in such an unflattering light!

Fine then!

I have wished that I had not been so reckless that night. If I'd only drunk less champagne… If I'd only controlled myself… If, if, if!

We came home from a party at the Bulgarian Embassy. We were both drunk. I was still giggling a bit too loudly. As soon as we Apparated at the front hall I said:

"My, that was fun!"

"_So._" Lucius said. "That is _fun _to you, is it?"

I ignored his tone. "Ah, my little peasant's jealous!" I kissed him at the ear. "Don't be grumpy! I'm going to bed. Care to join me?"

He clamped his left hand around my arm. "O no. We have something to talk about."

Immediately, I felt dead sober. "Lucius. Let go of me."

"Tut, tut, dearest. Tonight it has become clear to me that I have to keep a sharper eye on you."

"I'm not saying this again. Let go of me, now." With my free arm, I was fumbling for my wand. He saw it.

"Now, now, Narcissa, none of that." He squeezed harder and I cried out. He pulled me to the nearest sitting room.

"I couldn't help but notice," he said with a manic little smile, "that you and Igor Karkaroff seemed to be getting along very well this evening."

"We just talked, you know that. You saw us the whole time."

"Indeed, I did. Igor seemed to be very charmed." Suddenly he grabbed the cashmere shawl I had draped over my robes and threw it on the floor.

"He was all over you, and no wonder. Look at you," he hissed. "You look cheap. Like a little alley slut. He likes that."

"How dare you!"

He grabbed my shoulders again and forced me to look at him. For the first time, I saw that mad glint directed at me. "How long has this been going on between you two!"

Instead of backing of, which would have been wise, I slapped him in the face with all the force I could muster. "There's nothing between us. But there might be soon, if you don't stop living at that Ministry of yours…"

The next moment I remember in slow motion. He lifted his cane and struck me right across the face. It was so eerily similar to my first encounter with a Malfoy, that I half expected to hear somebody yell "_Expelliarmus_" behind me. But the only one who I cried was me, more in disbelief then in pain at first. I immediately fell to the floor. There I started looking for my wand manically, but he kicked it straight out of my hand, before kicking me right into the stomach. I doubled over and curled into a ball, desperately trying to protect myself. Yet he took my hair and yanked me up, hitting me in the face, all the while yelling insults.

I tasted the sharp tinge of blood, my scalp was on fire, my vision was blurred. I heard someone screaming, but could hardly make out if it was him or me. First I tried to fend off his fists with my hands, but after a while I just gave up, hanging limply in his arms, sobbing.

I don't know when he finally stopped; I was barely conscious then. Foggily I wondered how he had managed not to hit any teeth out before curling up into a foetal position, wrapping the scarf around me, and surrendering to blackness.

"Missus? Can you 'ear me, Missus?"

Janey's voice sounded from miles away. "Dobby, you got to levitate 'er up. Can't do it myself." And to me: "It'll be alright, Missus."

"Janey," I whispered, feeling tears leaking out of my eyes, "I loved him, Janey…"

"Shore you did, Missus. You still do. Now let Dobby levitate you, there's a good gal."

They managed to get me to my quarters and levitate me to my bed.

Slowly Janey's face crept into focus. "Did Draco hear?" I croaked.

"Not a word, Missus. That spell on 'is door blocks out all sounds, alright." She covered me with a blanket. "I'll go looking for one of those 'ealing Potions-"

"No need," we suddenly heard behind us. Janey spun round and Dobby let out a small whimper. My heart skipped a beat. I'd never feared that voice, but now it made me cold with dread.

"Clear out, you two," he said to Dobby and Janey. I immediately heard Dobby's crack, but Janey straitened herself.

"Get out, Jane!" Lucius hissed.

"No sir." Janey's voice was trembling. "I can't, sir."

He sighed. _"Imperio_. Get out and go to my sons' quarters. Close the door behind you."

At that moment, I knew I was going to die, unable as I was to defend myself.

"Come to finish your job, have you?" I said. "At least make it a quick Avada and get it over with."

He walked to the bed very slowly. I turned my head away. Then I heard him whisper. "Cissa," his voice sounded broken. "My darling Cissa…"

He touched my face and I winched. Carefully he poured a bit of Healing Potion on a cloth and dabbed my face with it. It worked immediately.

He washed and treated my whole body. I remember wondering where he had learned to do that so well; he seemed to know which bruise hurt most and how to touch it. Then he did join me in bed, covered every inch of me with kisses… He had never been so tender, yet I felt nothing but hatred.

Deep down, I realised what my life was going to be like when I stayed with him. By Merlin, I'd seen it often enough, the miserable wives cowering in fear of their drunk, good-for-nothing husbands. I knew I should scoop you up and run, now. But I didn't want to. I did not want to throw it all away. And most of all, I wanted revenge.

It wasn't the first time I regretted not being able to perform the Cruciatus Curse well, or the Killing Curse, for that matter.

But I didn't want to kill him. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to make him beg.

That night, I took the Dark Lord's book out under the floorboard in the dining room again, and looked for one of the most painful curses I knew. And I found what I was looking for immediately. The Hangman's Curse. It killed a person within two weeks, if not lifted.

I waited a month for even starting the preparations for it, while enjoying your father's remorse; as you know, he has an exquisite taste in jewellery. But after two months, when the stream of gifts had stopped, I set to work.

The first two days your father was only a little out of breath, from the third day onwards he stayed at home. I nursed him as well as I could, because I secretly enjoyed listening to his rasping breath, his tossing and turning at night, knowing that every minute had to feel like an hour. However when he demanded to see a Healer on the tenth day, I confronted him.

"Healers won't be of any use," I said with a little smile. "They'll just stand by as you suffocate."

Now it was his turn to look frightful. I smiled more broadly. "Nice, isn't it, too be completely at somebody else's mercy?"

"You?" he only said.

"Yes, I." For a few seconds, I kept silent, going up and down the room. "You didn't think you were going to get away with that, did you?"

"You little…" he took out his wand, but he didn't have enough breath to voice the words to whatever hex he wanted to use, and so I was quick enough to disarm him. I let the wand twirl between my fingers.

"I'll keep this at a safe place for now," I said. "And then I'll leave you to think for a bit." I used his wand to put a body bind on him.

And so he was helpless, completely helpless. Yet it took him two more days to finally ask me to lift the curse; he had barely enough breath left to stay conscious.

"Listen to me carefully," I hissed before doing what he asked. "If you ever do anything to me again, or to Draco, you won't be this lucky."

I knew I was taking an enormous risk here. Now I had become a threat to him, I realised he could kill me. I would not have cared if he had. Where my love for him had been, there was an aching, gaping hole. It was beckoning to me, trying to suck me inside.

It would have, if it weren't for you. I wanted to see your eyes light up blowing the six candles on your birthday cake out.

Are you happy now? Does it really help to know that I knew exactly what you went through each time? Without helping?

Selfish? Yes, I was! I know mothers are not supposed to be, are they? Fathers, yes, they can be absolute self-absorbed gits, but mothers, no, a plague on them!

Sorry, I am being mean. This is exhaustion talking… By the gods, you have a right to be angry. But if you stay and listen, I will tell you why things happened the way they did… We _both _had good intentions, your father and I…

But now I must rest… My head is killing me!


	15. Ice

**Ice**

I saw my mother today! She looked awful… So sad! She was spinning around very fast; it made me dizzy…

Wait, there she is again! I'll go to her…

I can't get off the bed! There's a hurricane around my bed! Draco, help me! Call your father! Do something!

---

I'm glad that's over. I suppose I fainted again. One more fit, and I'll officially qualify as a heroine of an 18th century romance novel!

That is, if I looked the part…

That wasn't my mother I saw… People have sometimes told me that I resemble her, but I never saw it, I only remember her sunken face and hollow eyes…

I should _really _try to hold down something now. Yet I _am_ trying, and I can't; with every bite I feel like I'm swallowing concrete. And immediately, my stomach throws it out.

Besides, I'm almost out of Healing Potions. Damn. I wish Lucius could make me some, but he is the worst Potion brewer. And that stuff at the Apothecary isn't much more use than water.

I wouldn't have thought I'd _ever _run out of stock. I mean, I needed them for if you –

Damn, I can barely write it down!

Well, I never denied I was a hypocrite, Draco.

I wish I wouldn't have to put it to words. The words make the whole chain of events seem so final, so _obvious_; but it wasn't obvious, not to me. I know, if that is all I can say to my defence, then by Merlin, it isn't worth much – but it is the truth. The confused, stupid, cowardly truth, but the truth nonetheless.

It was like walking downhill blindfolded: when I noticed the ground becoming slippery and steep, it was too late to stop myself from crashing.

You see, at first, everything looked optimistic. Lucius had changed. It took him a lot of time to recover from my curse, and he seemed to have used that time to think. He had no more outbursts, and we were civil to each other, if cold.

Looking back, though, I think he tried to control himself too much. He needed an outlet. In that respect, the war had been great for him. He had enjoyed the violence. And so had I. I do understand that House-Elves are a lot less satisfactory targets than Muggles, after all. Maybe that's why he was still brooding so much. His drinking had also not ceased.

That started to change when your seventh birthday approached. He spent more weekends at home, and started to take an interest in you.

You were delighted, of course. I didn't like it one bit. I suddenly realised that on your seventh birthday, he would declare you ripe for 'real' education and claim you. Not that I thought he would want you around him much. When he was there, you still took your dinner in your quarters with Janey. Even then, if you where doing anything other than reading, he wanted you to leave the room. The only thing he did was take you out for the occasional flying lesson on Sunday. But it hurt, the way you got overexcited about that. From Tuesday onwards, you kept asking me how long till Sunday still. I am sorry if I was a bit snappy with you at that time, my boy.

Because I'd seen it again. That glint. When he watched you. When he asked about your lessons.

But _surely _he wouldn't do anything. Not to his child. And I wouldn't let him…

would I?

The Manor seemed darker than usual in those November weeks before your birthday…

---

I wished I could stop the day from ever arriving. And if I couldn't, I at least wanted it to be perfect for you.

So I do _not _think that sacking Janey at the night before was a nice move of your father's. I hadn't seen you this distressed before.

"Janey?" I heard your little voice early in the morning; softly, at first, but louder as you came closer to my quarters. "Janey! JA-"

When I groggily got up to see what the matter was, I was greeted by a mesmerizing and slightly disturbing sight. In the dimly lit hallway I saw father and son. The candlelight from the walls was reflected in your hair, but cast shadows over your faces. In your black flannel pyjamas and his deep purple silk bathrobe, you two looked like two dark angels.

"Well, well," Lucius said. "This is a rather _unseemly _manner to start such an important day, don't you agree?"

"Where is Janey?" you blurted out, teary, but defiant.

He took your chin between his fingers and forced your head up.

"I have told you more than once that you are to address me properly."

"Lucius!" I called from my doorway. Your eyes darted to me, but he forced them back.

"Well?"

"Good morning," you said, swallowing hard.

"'Good morning, father,'" he repeated slowly, emphasizing each syllable.

I tried to step in. "Really, Lucius! Let go of him. It is his birthday, for the love of Merlin!"

"And such an important birthday it is!" he said, letting go of your chin. You immediately took a step backwards. He smiled.

"There is no need for that." He cleared his throat. "This is a great day, son, because from today onwards, I am going to teach _you_ to be great, to be worthy of your line. So if you work hard and do exactly as I say, you have nothing to fear from me." I could see you didn't believe a word of that. He seemed to notice too.

"If you _do_ give me reason for discontentment, however- " he said, bowing a bit closer to you, "you will, naturally, experience the consequences of your actions. This is entirely in your hands. Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes… (he arched a brow) father."

"Good boy." He turned to walk away.

"But where is Janey?"

He stopped dead and turned around once more. "I dismissed your nurse. Her services were no longer required."

"She's gone then?"

The way he went rigid! I still find that frightening. He turned to you again.

"Another thing I will not tolerate is stupidity."

I saw your eyes well up in tears. "Come, I'll help you dress," I said, in a feeble attempt to break the tension.

Lucius held me back. "It's time he learnt to do that himself. An Elf can assist him."

I sneered. "You don't even trust an Elf with your underwear." Then I swept past him and took you to your chambers.

That was one of the last times I held you very tight. When I whispered into your ear that everything was going to be fine, I was trying to convince myself, not you. Because when I did up all the buttons of your dress robes afterwards I felt like I was saying goodbye to you.

Did you sense this too? You were very clingy that day, and that wasn't typical of you.

And so it started. Lucius would work, come home two hours earlier than usual, and then spent the night, till ten o'clock sometimes, with lessons, lessons, lessons. History. Quidditch. Fencing. Nasty little hexes. The Rules. And etiquette, _ad nauseam._Gone were the laughs you and I had had together.

You became paler and thinner, and fidgety when you saw your father's arm of the clock turn from 'work' to 'travelling'. To be honest, I did, too. I couldn't stand it. I didn't know what to do.

---

I could go on about that period for days. Because it was the last time we shared. The last time I could entertain the illusion that things would get better. That I still had the power to protect you. That I _would _protect you.

Well, I tried. When I saw the lashes at your back for the first time, I was filled with such a fury I felt capable of skinning Lucius alive. I went straight to his study, kicked the door open and pointed my wand right between his eyes.

"You _bastard._You _sodding _bastard!"

He looked up from his desk, half surprised, half annoyed.

"Whatever is wrong with you?"

"Me? Oh, that's rich." I laughed coldly. "I come home to find my son, _my _son, all bloody, and bruised, and you _dare_ ask me what is wrong?" I advanced on him, still pointing my wand at his eyes.

"Narcissa, put that away or I will have to hurt you."

In response, I darted forwards, grabbed his robes and pulled his face close to mine. "I thought we had an agreement," I hissed. "I _can_ kill you, Lucius Malfoy, and nobody will ever prove it was me."

He only laughed. "Ah, but you won't."

He took advantage of my momentary surprise to disarm me. Scrambling back to my feet, I hissed:

"What makes you so sure?"

He stood up and walked around his desk. Every inch of him oozed confidence. "You would have done it by now. So why didn't you?"

"There's a time for everything. And yours had not yet come."

He chuckled. "Liar.You need me. You have nothing to gain from by death."

"I wouldn't call fifteen Gringotts vaults nothing."

"Oh, _ma gamine_, do you really think my forebears wouldn't have solved the problem of a gold-digger wife?" He turned his back on me and took a heavy leather bound silver book from his shelves.

"Look here," he said as he opened a page. "In case of my decease, the fortune is Draco's. He'll only get it, though, when he is of age. Until that time, the money would be in the hands of a few handpicked advisors." He smiled again. "Now, these are quite old and conservative friends of my father. They knew he wasn't happy with my violation of the marriage traditions at all. So since they aren't obliged to give you any allowance whatsoever, I highly doubt they would."

"Do you think I care about an allowance in a situation like this?"

His eyes narrowed. "Yes," he whispered, "very much… For what, pray tell, have you to offer him?"

I didn't know what to say.

"I'd thought as much." He walked back to his desk. "Can we drop this ridiculous subject now? I don't know what you are making such a fuss about, anyway."

"Fuss!" I wanted to hit him! "You beat up my boy!"

"I merely chastisedhim, Narcissa," he sighed, his annoyance unmistakably audible now. "As is my right!"

"You _chastised _him." I took a deep breath. "So I suppose you merely chastised me, too, that time?"

He froze. "That was something _else_. This is nothing a common Healing Potion couldn't cure! Besides, it was about time too. The child's lack of decorum is disgraceful!"

"He is one of the best behaved little boys I have ever seen!"

"Compared to what you're used to, maybe!"

O, how I hated him. "And what has he done to merit such a punishment?"

"He disobeyed me. Twice!"

And then he told me the story of the day. How you had not wanted to show your flying skills at the Ivanovs after you had seen what the son of their other guest, Viktor Krum, had been capable of.

"That Krum boy is four years older than him, not to mention a prodigy! Draco shouldn't have to compete with him!"

"Of course he has to!" Lucius hissed. "That's the whole problem isn't it? You've spoiled him so badly he won't amount to anything in life now!" He took a deep breath. "His behaviour reflects upon us, can't you grasp that? Our position is constantly at stake. Your antics already are corrosive as hell, and now with him copying you – I won't allow it! I _must_ repair the damage you have done, or he'll bring us all down one day!"

"The damage_ I_ have done? God you're conceited. If you think that I'm just going to leave him to you and your methods, y-"

"Yes, you are, and you very well know that! Don't try to fool yourself, urchin! What are you going to do? Go to court? You know I've got them all in my pocket!" He lowered his voice to a whisper: "I want you to understand this once and for all: Draco is my heir, and I'll raise him as I see fit! I will not have another sewer rat in my house!"

How did he do it? How did he manage to make me feel like a pile of Doxy droppings within a matter of minutes? I had nothing to say. He walked back to his desk. "Leave me now, Narcissa. I haven't got time for this nonsense."

I felt completely empty as I walked towards the door. I couldn't think of anything that could perpetrate his twisted reasoning. Except…

I turned around. "You killed your own father, have you forgotten that? Are you going to torture Draco long enough to make him willing to kill _you _one day?"

I'd gone much too far there and I should have known that. He shot bolt upright. "Torture!" he spat, "woman, you know nothing of torture!" With to steps he was at the door and grabbed my arm. I cringed, waiting for a blow, but he only pulled me with him to his desk. There he let go of me, took out his wand and pointed it at the wall. A small door opened and a revealed a dark cavity, just big enough for a crouching child.

"Whenever I had done something, or he was in the mood," Lucius whispered, "my father would throw me in there and seal the wall again. He told me I'd have just enough oxygen for half an hour, if I didn't take too large gulps of air. He said it would teach me _moderation._"

He was shaking all over now. "And I would hear him walk around the room and he would call to me, 'Ten minutes, boy,' 'Two minutes,' and every time, he waited a few more seconds before opening the bloody door…" His voice trailed off. "Can you imagine, counting the seconds, praying? I didn't even dare to _beg!_"

A strange spasm contorted his facial muscles for a second, but then he regained his composure. "Of course, one time the bloody arse forgot about me, and it turned out that he had been lying all the time. Not that it mattered. He had some other tricks up his sleeve." He locked his eyes into mine. "I used to _wish _he'd just hit me!"

For the first time in my life, I saw his eyes brimming with tears.

In an impulse I tried to touch his face. "Darling, that is terri-"

He shoved me away so forcefully I almost lost my balance. "Go! Leave me _be_!"

The feeling vanished instantly. Suddenly I only wanted one thing. Get away from him, this Manor, this _life. _I walked out of the door, ran through the hallway, but halfway through, I was overcome by a dizzy spell and sank to my knees. Sitting like this, clawing at my hair with my hands, I was overcome by a feeling I hadn't had in years.

I wanted my mummy.

I hadn't been at her grave for ages, but the urge to get there was so overwhelming, that I somehow managed to drag myself up, get to the gate and Apparate to the graveyard.

---

I still don't know exactly what I was looking for. I didn't expect to be consoled by a gravestone. Yet, for all it was worth, the place reminded me of a part of my life that had nothing to do with the Malfoys.

My mother was a Fawcett, of obscure wizarding stock - they could only be retraced till the beginning of the nineteenth century. She'd been a quiet, unobtrusive Hufflepuff to boot, and had therefore not left many traces in Hogwart's records. I must admit, though, that I never really looked: I was a bit ashamed of her humble background and much rather associated myself with the powerful Redgrave line to the outside world.

And yet, buried deep inside my foolish heart, she was something else: the symbol of all those fickle things: good, warmth, love. Suddenly I craved that with every fibre of my being; that's how weak I was. Never show weakness, Draco. The world awaits those moments to sneak up on you and crush you in ways you'd never expect. That night, the world attacked me in the form of a round faced, dumpy looking woman.

I hadn't noticed her coming. I had been standing at my parents' gravestones, staring at the half-withered words spelling REDGRAVE, waiting for something I couldn't name and feeling more stupid by the minute. There was nothing in this place. The stones didn't emit a golden glow; I wasn't filled with soothing memories and crying 'Mummy!' at the heavens, as I had planned to do, seemed completely pointless. So when I heard her let out a gasp behind me I was more annoyed than anything else.

I turned around. "Please, I'd like to be alone."

The woman was ashen faced. Then she relaxed. "Do forgive me, madam. For a minute I thought you were somebody else. The resemblance is remarkable."

"Well, I'm not," I said, turning around again.

The woman laughed. She sounded very warm and I felt myself relax a little. "Naturally, it would be strange if you were!" She was silent for a bit. Then she said, "Family of yours?"

My father's face flashed before my eyes. "More or less."

"The resemblance is striking. Diana used to be a good friend of mine." Then she held out her hand. "My name is Amanda McMillan. We were in Hufflepuff together."

I didn't shake it. "You weren't at her funeral."

She blushed. "Yes, that is something I've always regretted. But Nicholas and I weren't on such good footing, sadly, and he didn't want me there." She looked at the gravestone apologetically. "I look after her grave now once in a while, to make up for it a bit."

That intrigued me. "What happened?"

"To be honest, I never thought Diana and Nicholas to be well matched. I do think they loved each other, and it wasn't that he wasn't a decent chap, but you know, those Redgraves…" she furrowed her brow.

"What about them?" I said, really interested now.

"O, well, they've always been a bit fishy, haven't they? There's always been talk about the Dark Arts, and Grindelwald supporting."

I laughed. "I assure you that you were wrong in that respect. There was nothing Nicholas Redgrave hated more than the Dark Arts."

"Yes, he would, wouldn't he, after they'd fired back on him and his family that badly?" She put on a stern face. "It is well known that the Redgraves always meddled in things they shouldn't. Including Nicholas." Then she softened. "Though I should give him the benefit of the doubt."

"Who…who told you this?" I said breathlessly.

"Nobody. It wasn't talked about openly. But I've always felt there was something not completely right about them, and I wasn't the only one. It was better not to cross the Redgraves, you see? You never knew what would happen. Believe me; hardly anybody in magical London was sad to hear of the demise of that lot."

I felt the blood drain from my face. She saw it, and she reddened. "I'm sorry, dear. I didn't mean to insult any of your loved ones. Nicholas was a good man…"

I took another look at her face. "You don't mean that."

"Well…" she was a bit taken aback. "I don't think he did much wrong before it all happened, but the way he handled the whole situation cannot be excused. He should not have dragged my best friend down with him."

I was surprised how badly her anger at him stung me. "You make it sound like what happened was all his own doing. As if his enemies had nothing to do with it."

"You mean that Malfoy thing? They certainly played their part, but I've always wondered whether the Malfoys weren't the effect rather than the cause of the problem."

I heard Severus' words echo in my head: _These things always demand a price, princess… _

I was suddenly frightened, but it only heightened my anger. "What 'problem'?" I spat, "speak plainly, madam! The only things I've heard from you are accusations and allegations!"

She looked at me for a long time. "Precisely what Diana said. She wouldn't even listen to me when Nicholas himself told her his story. She wrote me letters asking me why he would rave like that…"

"And what was in those letters?" I caught myself snarling.

"She was very worried about Nicholas. After they had had to move, he became severely depressed. He was talking about all the wrongs his family had done over the centuries-"

"Wrongs? Surely not. They were Ravenclaws."

"That doesn't make anyone immune! Nicholas himself said that many atrocities had been committed in his family's history and now the time had come to pay for them. He spoke of Knockturn Alley as his purgatory, a place that would cleanse him."

"_Cleanse _him? If anything, that place soils-"

"I agree with you. I visited Diana there once or twice. I tried to convince them both to get out. Nicholas wouldn't listen, and Diana wouldn't talk him out of it. Or maybe she just couldn't. After all, if this really was a family curse, maybe nobody could have changed their situation. But that is still no reason for Nicholas to actively mess up all his job interviews."

"He did _what_!"

"Yes. He could have easily got himself a good job, Malfoys or no Malfoys, especially in the beginning. He and his family were still highly respected then, and Nicholas had early proven to be a formidable wizard if he wanted to. A fearsome one at that. But he said that after all that had gone wrong, he didn't deserve another chance."

"But that doesn't make sense. He had a wife. He had a daughter! Why would he want her to grow up in that place?"

"That was even stranger. He thought that if he and his family wasted their life there, then some 'debt' would have been repaid, and his daughter would be 'free of it', eventually. That is how Diana put it."

I was filled with very cold dread. What this woman was describing were the after-effects of many Dark curses gone horrifically wrong. I doubt she knew it, but she was repeating warnings my dad's defence guides had been littered with, and that I had always dismissed as superstition. I pushed the thought away as soon as it had come and instead brought out:

"Why did his wife put up with it?"

"She thought that with a bit of hard work and dedication, everything would work out for the best. As long as he was sick, she was certain _she _could get them out of there."

That did sound like my mother. Still, I refused to take in all this new information.

"She must have noticed," I said more to myself than anyone else, "after a few years, that things were getting worse instead of better! Why didn't she scoop her daughter up and leave! You don't know what it is like in that place… The filth… the decay…" My voice had taken on a high, hysterical pitch.

"That is what destroyed our friendship. She told me to finally stop telling her to leave him. As long as I didn't do that, she wouldn't accept my help." I said nothing, so she went on, apologetic once more: "Our contact became more sporadic. I must admit she… she frightened me in her last years. She was ill and _always _dirty…"

"_Why _wouldn't she accept help!" I blurted out suddenly. "Why would she rather _die_?"

"She wouldn't rather die. She refused to believe she was dying. And when she did, it was already much too late." Her eyes were full of pity. "I didn't understand it at first, but now I think she wanted to be together with her loved ones no matter what. She had never known her father, and her mother died much too young in Diana's first year of marriage – she got hit by a car during her first trip in Muggle London."

I knew this. Mum had told me, and I still remember my heart bleeding for her. Still, I refused to believe her.

The woman looked straight at me. "Diana wanted _her_ family to be whole."

"You're lying," I hissed. "She wouldn't think like that. Not if it meant… she'd never willingly die on me!"

"Diana made a vow at the beginning of her marriage. I believe you know it. She wasn't a person to break her vows."

Immediately, the words were ringing in my ears, mocking me: _'In sickness and in health, till death do us part…'_

"No!" I whispered.

"Your mother loved her family more than life itself, Narcissa."

"Apparently!" She wanted to say something, but I cut her short. "I've heard enough! And besides, the name is Malfoy." I took a deep breath. "I'm not her daughter. Her daughter's long been dead."

The change in my behaviour that occurred after I came back from that graveyard was drastic, to put it mildly. And I have thought of many justifications for it. I've told myself that I'd had a sudden insight: my parents had loved me, but it hadn't prevented them from hurting me, betraying me, damn near destroying my foolish, trusting heart.

Wouldn't I, inevitably, do the same to you one day? Wouldn't it be better, then, if you were strong enough to handle it? Wouldn't it, in short, be best to let Lucius toughen you up after all?

I liked that version so much I chose to believe it myself. In reality, of course, it was absolute bollocks. In reality, I had been wandering through the countryside, half delusional. I kept seeing distorted visions: the lashes on your back, Lucius sneering at me; but also my parents as I last saw them: the stiff corpse of my mother, the look of utter disgust in my father's eyes. It seemed like the lump in my chest had burst open, and images came flooding out, engulfing me. Just one thing was clear: There was no running for it now. I had to either cope or crumble. And I also knew, from long, long ago, that crumbling was not an option.

But there was only one way to cope.

This time, contrary to the time my mother died, it was a conscious effort. I sucked the cold evening winds in and imagined them chilling my every nerve, my very blood. 'Ice,' I said. At first, my voice was weak and husky, but it grew steadier and more powerful every time I repeated that lone syllable. With every repetition, I forced myself to numb down.

_Ice. Ice. _

_ICE!_

_---_

After I had stopped, my body had grown stone cold, but my hands had stopped shaking. I was calm, I saw and heard with extreme clarity, and I felt- nothing.

I Apparated back to the Manor, I walked through the hallway with all the Malfoy family portraits, scowling at me as usual – nothing. I met Lucius, who came running out of his study after hearing my footsteps ("Merlin's balls, where have you been? The child's asking for you!") and the only thing that filled me was utter indifference. At the thought of you something stirred below the surface, but I immediately suppressed it. I swept past Lucius, went into my quarters, and immediately collapsed on my bed.

That night, my nightmares began.

* * *


	16. Chandeliers and sonatas

**Chandeliers and Sonatas**

Yes, nightmares. Shapeless blurs, accompanied by mangled sounds. They were never solid enough to make any sense of them, but they left me feeling bloodless and brittle.

Does that surprise you? Why do you think I had so much _somniaserum_ in my quarters? Don't tell me you haven't seen all the bottles, the many times you were poking around in my belongings. (Yes, I know you did that, darling. I know all the tricks, and I know it took you a long time to learn them.)

It's a strange urge, isn't it? Just having to possess something? The feeling of an amulet against your skin, the cool, strong feeling of a well-made blade… Yes, I know what you mean; it has never ceased to give me shivers of pleasure. But you should have realised, dear, that I wasn't going to keep those things anywhere near my underwear.

What made you do it? I always thought that my strange urges stemmed from the fact that I had nothing as a child, but you always could have anything you wanted. Was it, maybe, a strange form of defiance? There was nothing Lucius hated more about you than your tendency to 'nose' as he called it. He couldn't understand your fascination for my amulets, charters, ingredients, and your reckless behaviour to get hold of them. He didn't see that the notion to try and stop Narcissa Redgrave's son doing this was ridiculous in itself. I could have helped you there, I know. But it was so much too late already.

Oh, I'm not saying I didn't toy with the idea of fighting for you in the conventional way some more. I had plenty of opportunity to shout at him, throw tantrums, demand him to stop manhandling you. And where would that have got me? At best, nowhere, at worse, in St. Mungo's with three broken ribs.

No, I'm not 'being indifferent' to what you went through all these years, son! I have told you before, I cried many a bitter tear for you.

Don't laugh. I did! Remember how I would always get a migraine attack on all the sundays Lucius 'wanted a word' with you in his study? I have never suffered a migraine attack in my life. I just didn't want you to see your mother blubbering in frustration. You see, this icy mask a put on shortly after you turned seven was exactly that. A mask. It took an enormous effort to keep it on. In the beginning, I wasn't really good at it, your screeching and wailing went right through it.

But I needed this cool exterior to help myself, and help you.

You know we were living together with a highly inflammable time-bomb. I had to find a way to control him. The first thing was making me inviolable to his threats and insults. And I only managed that by feeling indifferent. On a good day, I made myself forget that I had once loved him. I no longer tried to be in his favour. That, to my astonishment, was all it took to no longer let him intimidate me- much.

Once again, I started behaving as freely as I had when he was in prison. With one tiny difference: I did everything in my power to make him need me.

I planned his social life: I threw parties, I charmed his bosses, went to endless charities… But most of all, I started doing my Rituals to help Lucius get on. You see, I'd done it in the war, I'd done it to get Lucius out, but some time afterwards, I had pretty much stopped. Lucius didn't think he would need my 'little tricks', and he resented me helping him. Yet I made him see it could be very convenient to have concurrence fall sick at a crucial period of election time.

After a few years, I had wriggled myself so tightly into his professional life that I could start to demand things. This is how I got you to Hogwarts, my boy, and this is how I spared you many sunday 'talks'.

But it took time, I know, and there were drawbacks. I saw even less of you, following that new schedule, and I changed. Those bloody nightmares! I had to take to somniaserum to be able to sleep at all, more and more of it. Even during the day. Not all days were good days, and many times the tension at home and outside just cracked me up. The Potions helped.

But the side effects of an overdose were rather inconvenient. I was either sedated or acting... well, I think peculiar is the best word for it. (It took me a while to whip up a good antidote.)

Another strange thing was that I started to abhor music. When listening to a concert, I felt an ache, bad enough to make me scream.

Yet worse still was having you around me. I felt so horribly guilty. I knew I was working on a plan to help you, but in the first two years, I couldn't do much. I was still trying to infiltrate in Lucius' life. But oh, that silent plea in your eyes, it drove me insane. Please Draco. You should have understood. You should have given me the time I needed. If only you had given me those three years, everything would have been alright between us.

But you didn't.

*

I remember the day everything took a wrong turn. Maybe I should not have gone up to your chambers. I never disturbed you while you were there, I knew you craved a break from the tight scrutiny your father kept you under.

But one of my rather delicious letter openers was missing, and it was exactly the thing you would have 'borrowed'. So I decided to sneak in and get it back. You were supposed to be outside somewhere, practicing your jinxes. Yet the sight that greeted me when I opened your door was both utterly familiar and completely unexpected. I saw you, crouched over bits of parchment (by the look of them, charters) and a variety of objects: it took me less than a second to realise that you were doing a Ritual. It was like seeing myself again when I was your age. But I'm certain that even if I'd have been caught red handed by my father, I wouldn't have looked this terrified.

I hadn't seen you like this before: transfixed in fear, like small rodents are under the gaze of a cobra. We stared at each other for a moment. Then you seemed to reawaken. "Don't…don't tell Dad," you whispered, shoving a few objects behind your back. At the same moment, I found my voice again.

"Leave it!" In two steps I was with you, then I eagerly dropped to my knees. You backed away, not saying anything, but for a moment I wasn't looking at you. You see, it was a _beautiful _constellation you had created. It would be such a waste to ruin it, especially since I knew you must have used hours to figure out how to do it. Quickly, I restored it to its original state, and then surveyed it again.

"Those rat eyes should be in the form of an ellipse, not a circle," I said finally, shoving a few of the eyes around. "See? And that powder should be grinded a bit finer. Like this." I muttered a quick spell. Then I gave you the bowl. "Now, you make a cross with this on the floor. Mind you, it has to be upside down." You looked at me, the bowl of powder, then at me again, as if deciding if this was a trick or not. But after a little encouragement, you did as I said.

Within minutes, we were working together as a perfect team again, just like old times. I hadn't realised how much I had missed that. The grins, the sideway glances, the little jokes, they were all there again.

Well, not completely. You seemed more insecure than I remembered, and you kept glancing over your shoulder. But you were still my boy. I can hardly describe how happy that made me, how alive it made me feel.

"So, who are you trying to curse, anyway?"

You grinned at me. "Dobby."

"Draco! What do I keep telling you about the House Elves?"

"_We don't hex the House Elves, they punish themselves_," you recited. "But this is not hexing!"

You were so adorably mischievous! I had forgotten you could be like that, you were always so well behaved these days!

"You little goblin!"

And then I think made a mistake. I reached out and ruffled your hair.

Draco, it was such a normal gesture. I used to do it all the time! Why was your reaction so bizarre?

You flinched. The terror in your eyes was back. And suddenly your expression changed. You didn't look terrified anymore - you looked _starved_.

There was an almost animal hunger in your eyes… And suddenly I saw the same mad glint that crept into your father's eyes whenever he was going to get violent. I quickly scrambled to my feet. "I'll… I'll go downstairs…"

But as I took one step towards the door, you leapt up, ran to me, threw your arms around my waist and pressed your face against me.

As I felt how your body was racked by sobs, how wetness stained my robes, how desperately you clung to me, I suddenly felt my control vanish. Out of nowhere, one of my nightmares became real, and I was being sucked into the depths of a shapeless abyss...

I absolutely panicked.

"Draco, let go of Mother," I choked. I had to hold on, I couldn't be overpowered…

But you only clung to me harder, sobbing: "Mummy," over and over, weakening me… I had to do something…

"Let go! _Now_!" I put my hands on your shoulders and pushed you away, you fell to the ground in a crumpled heap and I ran for it, straight to the other side of the Manor. When I stood still to catch my breath, a wave of nausea swept over me. I ran to the nearest bathroom, collapsed in front of the toilet and started vomiting, your sobs still ringing in my ears.

*

I immediately Apparated to Diagon Alley that afternoon and bought the most gorgeous set of gobstones I could find. When you didn't show up at dinner, and the House Elf told us you weren't feeling well, your father was concerned it might have something to do with the 'talk' he had with you three days before and wanted to go look after you. I told him not to worry, and made an Elf bring up your dinner.

At breakfast the following morning you were there again- but we could all see something was wrong. There was a sort of hardness in your composure that hadn't been there before, and your face looked hollow. When you looked at me, there was nothing in your eyes. I felt so guilty I thought I'd die. And so I gave you the gobstones immediately.

You just looked at them without saying anything.

"Well Draco, what do you think of them?"

Again, silence.

"Draco, thank your mother," said your father. He sounded irritated. You looked at him; then slowly pushed the gobstones back to me.

Your father narrowed his eyes. "You thank your mother or it is up to my study right this minute!"

"I don't want her bribes," you said quietly.

Now there _was_ something in your eyes and it frightened me. I saw anger smouldering there, maybe even hate -

Of course, Lucius had to come between it, eager to let off steam, as always. He pushed his chair away, strode over to you and grabbed you by the collar. But this time was different after all. You – I still can't believe it – you started struggling to get loose. You even bit him!

First, Lucius looked at you, astonished; then he twisted his hand in your hair and yanked your head back.

"Biting," he said through gritted teeth, "is the mark of an animal. Do you want to be treated like one?"

Time seemed to stand still. I could only watch, mesmerized, horrified, at the scene in front of me. For as he held you locked in his grip, Lucius changed. The anger vanished, and was replaced by something vicious.

"Don't," I brought out. My throat was too dry to manage more than a whisper.

Lucius ignored me. "Well, do you?" he purred, increasing the pressure on your scalp. "It is very easy to make someone feel like an animal… or even less…"

I felt myself getting nauseous. I knew the expression in his eyes far too well. I'd worn it many times before myself, filled with the exhilarating triumph that came after completing a Ritual that would kill.

It gave me the strength to speak out. "Stop it!" I said, pointing my wand at his back.

Still, Lucius didn't show the merest sign of recognition. He kept pulling your hair taut, and bringing his face just this little bit closer to yours, said: "Shall we explore just how little, hmm?"

That made my blood boil. "I said, STOP IT!" I roared, and in an impulse pointed my wand at the chandelier. My spell severed the chain holding it up with a sickening _snap_, and it came crashing down.

In a reflex, your father pulled out his wand, yelled: "_Protego!" _and shielded you with his other arm.

Then there only was the sound of glass crashing on the oak of the table. It was a good these chandeliers have numerous Unbreakable Charms on them, otherwise things might have looked rather ugly. But at least I now had his unwavering attention.

I turned to Lucius, who was slowly lowering his wand, staring at me in disbelief.

"I will not stand for this," I said curtly. "Not in my dining hall. Control yourself for once!"

I didn't wait for his reply, but turned to you. You had ducked away behind your father's back, found yourself still grasping his robes and quickly let go. Then you took a few steps away from the pair of us, apparently convinced that we had gone stark mad. It made something inside me want to shrivel up and die. Yet, a moment later, I caught sight of the gobstones, scattered on the dining room floor, and immediately felt my anger flare up again. A briber, was I? Well, bribing time was over!

"You, young man," I said, in a voice frighteningly cold even to me, "are going to your chambers and staying there as long as I see fit."

Nobody moved.

"Now, Draco, or I _will_ let your father take you to his study."

A moment long your face seemed to quiver, and then it was as if something broke down. You bowed your head. "As you wish, Mother," you said in a wheezy voice, turned to Lucius, muttered: "Excuse me, Father," and went up. Halfway up the stairs I heard you break into a run.

Suddenly, I was bone tired. I slumped back in my chair and held my head in my hands for a moment.

When I heard Lucius behind me, whispering "Narcissa!" in a strained voice, I ignored it. I also ignored the tense clicking sound of his boots on the wooden floor, coming towards me. But I couldn't ignore his wand in my neck. "Will you look at me, damn it!"

_There, you have it coming now, _an annoying voice in my head said. _You should know better than to provoke him. _A single bead of cold sweat trickled down my spine, and I felt my stomach clench again.

But Lucius only pointed at the chandelier. "Have you lost it completely?" he said, "You could have hurt him!"

I stared at him for a moment. And then I started giggling. It was a mirthless, hollow cackle, but I couldn't stop. Bewildered, Lucius let go of me. "You're ripe for the closed ward," he muttered, but I didn't care. I was howling with laughter when I stumbled up the stairs, went to my chambers and opened my private Potions cabinet, and I nearly choked when I tried to pour some sleeping potion down my throat in between hysteric fits.

Then finally everything went blissfully dark.

*

Was I shocked by this? Oh yes. Shocked enough? Well, I thought about it – in a few clear moments – but ultimately, no.

Come on, Draco, you know me – there were so many other things, there were parties to attend, there was shopping to be done, there were stupors to be slept off. It was much too easy to run from it.

No, that's not a nice thing to say. But _nice _is not a word to describe our family very well, is it? Have _you _ever done anything that could in the broadest sense of the word be considered nice?

I'd thought as much! And besides, if you wanted to hear something heroic you should have gone and talked to a Gryffindor.

Do I regret it?

I am a _wreck, _Draco, and I can't even manage to be a pretty one at the moment. Don't ask me about it anymore, please. If I give in to that, I'll… I'll lose my mind.

O, you're talking about then. No, I didn't, really. I was functioning in a haze of somniaserum. Not at all unpleasant.

No of course I wasn't _happy_! But in my opinion, my boy, happiness is vastly overrated. If you even want to be able to perceive it you have to put of with so much nasty business first that I sincerely wonder how people manage without offing themselves. And besides, the absence of happiness is not unhappiness. It's just life.

Now don't make it sound as if it was all bad. There were a lot of good things, too – I've never been so good at really difficult Rituals before! I wouldn't have managed to curse three school governors _and _their families at the same time if I'd been happy all the time – that is very counterproductive, and -

Young man, will you _stop _biting my head off? I already told you that I tried my best to change your situation. If my best was not enough, well, _tant_ _pis! _

Ok, ok, that too wasn't a nice thing to say, but really, Draco, I just don't understand why you are attacking _me _all the time. I wasn't the one who had those 'talks' with you! I wasn't the one to keep you on your toes, and I certainly wasn't the one who tried to mould you into a Malfoy!

Oh, it wasn't that? Well, then what bloody was it?

I withdrew? Now listen here! You were the one who withdrew from _me_, not the other way round! It was always: "_Father _thinks, _Father _says, _Father _wants," Daddy this, Daddy that… It made me _sick -_

O… o no… please don't…don't cry… DON'T GO! I didn't mean… please stay… Draco I _beg _you…

O_, _thank _Merlin. _No, no – thank _you! _

I'm so sorry for that... It is just… It _hurts _so much. From the day I crashed the chandelier, I was so completely alone. Nobody _touched _me for ages, afterwards. Lucius had long since turned to many mistresses and the times we did f- make love, it was so grim, more like a battle. And you, I can't blame you for not knowing what to think of me. At least your father could give you attention… Even positive attention… That's one of the things I found so horribly twisted… Sometimes, when he wanted to talk to you, that really was all he wanted, _talk. _And laugh with you. And say what a fine lad you were. And I couldn't… I just couldn't anymore. I was so afraid to do something as wrong as I had that day, and…I…I couldn't trust my own reactions. The ice was so thin.

And besides, it was hurtful to see him try to mould you into somebody I didn't know, somebody that didn't exist. Your transformation was too forced. I found it hard to see this boy, too loud, whimsical, full of false bravado, a caricature of what you could never be.

Yet it pains me even more to know that I was wrong.

_When_ did I realise? Really, you must remember _that_.

No? Think, then! It was night. At the Ballroom. I was supposed to be out, and your father was discussing something with Fudge, and –

But how can you _not _remember it? It is one of my most profound memories! It _must _mean something to you, I'm certain of it… I'll help you refresh your memory…

*

Well, like I said, I was out, but I'd never been to anything that was as stupendously boring as this. It was hosted by the Japanese Minister for Magic, but he and his staff hardly spoke any English, and smiling serenely all night made my jaw hurt. Besides, I was dying for a hearty swig of serum, so I excused myself as quickly as I could.

I was not in a good mood when I came home, and more so when Libby didn't immediately Apparate at my side to put away my things.

I waited for ten seconds and then resorted to calling her, but to no avail. Not only that, none of the Elves showed up.

That was too much. I needed my bed, I needed a bath and I needed a fix, and I wasn't going to do it myself, and certainly not without telling the lot of them to punish themselves like they never had before, so I set out for the kitchens.

The kitchens were empty.

I was dumbfounded. After much yelling, something finally Aparated before me. It was a miniature Elf I didn't know.

"Who are you? Where are Libby and the rest?"

"They are at the Ballroom, Mistress. Tilly was told to watch the kitchens," she said with something of regret in her voice. "Tilly couldn't go."

"Of course you couldn't go!" I spat. "None of you are to go anywhere without my permission! Get back to work, you little wretch!"

With a group of House Elves in my mind's eye, celebrating and getting drunk on Butterbeer because their Masters were away, I marched to the Ballroom. To my surprise, I found them not in it, but sitting in front of the closed doors, neatly lined up as if they were in a concert hall. They had strange, dreamy looks on their ugly little faces and didn't even notice me.

A moment later I understood why. From inside, a melody floated our way.

It was as if I'd suddenly forgotten how to breathe. I knew the piece, for I'd practiced it fruitlessly many times: Beethoven's _Mondscheinsonate_, his moonlight sonata. Under my hands it had felt stiff and methodical, unyielding; now the piano sounded as if it was being caressed by the fingertips on its keys. The music that ensued perpetrated every pore of my skin. It was the sweetest torture imaginable.

I found myself drawn to the doors, opening them a fraction, silently, silently, to see who was playing. A part of me knew that it could only be you, but another part refused to believe that; I had never seen you touch the piano after your seventh birthday.

And in a way, the person I saw playing there wasn't you. I had never seen you this serenely concentrated, I had never seen you so gentle. The music seemed the illuminate your features. The glow that you were basking in gave you something unearthly, ethereal.

No, this wasn't you. It was who you could have been.

When I realised that, a flame of hope seared up in my soul. If somewhere inside you, hidden behind the mask of Malfoy jr., was still my boy… Then maybe, just maybe, I could reach out and access the part of me that was now writhing and screaming in agony… It wanted to be let out, to connect, touch… Without thinking, I pushed the doors open further…

The squeaking of the hinges ripped the melody apart, and the atmosphere with it. I wanted to kick myself. You wheeled around faster than I'd ever seen anyone do before, looking both bewildered and vigilant.

"Mother," you said, uncomprehending, and then you suddenly caught sight of the House Elves, who were still coming to their senses. A look of cold fury swept over your face.

"How dare you sneak up on me!" you yelled, whipping out your wand. "I'll teach you filthy lot a lesson! _Quasso! Quasso!"_ Two unfortunate Kitchen Elves where hit and got their elbows and kneecaps smashed.

When you raised your wand again I stepped in. "That's quite enough. They'll never be able to make us dinner tomorrow if you mutilate them any further."

"'Suppose," you muttered. A very awkward silence between us, which I only managed to break by turning to the Elves and saying: "Apparate back to the kitchens and patch yourself up. You know where to find the Skele-Gro. And tell Libby to prepare my bed."

When I turned back to you, you'd sat back down on the piano stool. "I thought you were out," you said.

"Yes, I was."

You were silent again, plucking at your trousers. Then you suddenly stood up. "My potions essay…"

"Stay," I said, vehemently. You froze mid-movement. "Please," I added. "Please, play on."

You gave me another piercing look before sitting down and placing your hands on the keyboard. But this time, your fingers where hesitant and your shoulders where hunched up. You made a mistake. And another one. And yet one more…

Finally, I turned around and went up to bed.

What else could I have done? Was there something obvious I'd missed? Was there any way I could have made this turn out better?

I don't know, Draco, but the questions still haunt me. Because I've never felt more alone in the world than that night, in my quarters, listening to your music that had become calm and beautiful again because you thought no-one was listening.


End file.
